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PROSE ROMANCES 

PLAYS AND COMEDIES 

OF BULWER 






COPYRIGHT, 1914 
BY E. G. BELI. 



AUG 26 1914 



'CI,A379257 



THE TORCH PRESS 

CEDAR RAPIDS 

IOWA 



INSCRIBED TO 

C. E. Wyman, Esq. 

ST. PAUL, MINN. 
IN TRIBUTE OF RESPECT 
AND ADMIRATION 




PREFACE 

recall to the many who value Bulwer 
some of the exquisite and noble char- 
acters he created and a few of the 
truths he sought to enforce; to ac- 
quaint new readers with the purpose 
of the several works and facilitate the just ap- 
praisement of their merits; and to record one 
estimate of the productions of an author who, in 
accordance with precedent, must wait a couple of 
centuries, before his country produces a critic 
capable of comprehending his power, wisdom, and 
mastery of art, is the object of this attempt to 
explain and appreciate the achievements of a 
great writer in the realm of romance. Another 
volume will deal with his poems, essays, criticisms, 
and speeches, for the romances are but half of his 
works. 

Because of the vague notions prevalent con- 
cerning literature, poetry, and romance, an essay 
treating of these precedes the articles on the 
romances and their author. 

The chapter on Bulwer is largely derived from 
the writings of his/v^^fc, and the two publications 



8 PREFACE 

of her executrix. Material for a more detailed 
and much stronger presentation than is here made 
exists in these works, of which a further exposition 
may become necessary. 

The aim of this volume is to help those who de- 
sire to read Bulwer understandingly. None of the 
papers exhausts its subject, but if the reader is 
stimulated to examine and discover for himself, 
the purpose of the work will have been accom- 
plished. 



CONTENTS 



Preface 

Literature — Poetry — Romance 
BULWER ..... 
Bulwer's Romances . 



First Period : 
Falexand 

- Pelham 
The Disowned 
Devereux 

- Paul Clifford 

ASMODEUS AT LaRGE 

Second Period: 
Eugene Aram 
godolphin . 
Pilgrims of the Rhine 

- Last Days of Pompeh 

RiENZI . 

Leila . 
Calderon 
Maltravers 
Short Stories 

Third Period : 

Night and Morning 
-Zanoni . 



7 
13 
29 
61 

65 
67 
72 

77 
81 
87 

89 
95 
100 
104 
112 
120 
123 
124 
136 

141 

147 



10 



CONTENTS 



^ The Last of the Bakons . 


163 


LUCRETIA 


181 


Harold 


192 


Pausanias . ... 


204 


Fourth Period : 




The Caxtons 


209 


My Novel . . . 


219 


What Will He Do With It? . 


230 






A Strange Story . . . . 


238 


The Coming Race . . . . 


251 


Kenelm Chillingly .... 


271 


The Parisians . . . . . 


280 


Plays and Comedies : 




Prerequisites to Great Plays . 


294 


Bulwer's Connection with the Stage 


302 


The Acting Play .... 


310 


The Duchess de la Valliere 


314 


The Lady of Lyons 


327 


Richelieu 


339 


The Rightful Heir . 


357 


The House of Darnley , . 


366 


Money 


372 


Not So Bad As We Seem . 


383 


Walpole 


394 



BULWER 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 

LITERATURE is the inclusive term for the several 
productions of those artists who by means of 
words and symbols used appropriately, either 
chronicle and record observations, discoveries, facts, 
methods, and events ; or represent characters, moods, feel- 
ings, emotions, passions, and the conflict of these. Its 
service to mankind is analogous to that which memory 
performs for the individual. It has the same object as 
all art, viz., that of increasing man's knowledge, refining 
his judgments, and developing his perceptions, and like 
other arts it can be degraded to base uses. 

Memory retains the results of observations, reflections, 
experiences, and communications. Its stores are in- 
creased, and drawn upon as aids, in two distinct exer- 
cises of the intellect. 

One of these is by experiment, measurement, accumu- 
lation of details, qualities, and particulars, and a step- 
by-step progress toward certainty; the object being ex- 
actitude or truth, the method reasoning, and the result 
science. For the purpose of its records, its use of words 
and symbols is precise and even technical. Details are 
exhaustively considered, and only after careful examina- 
tion of many particulars are deductions arrived at, or 
generalizations ventured upon. In its extreme examples 
it becomes profound and abstruse, as in pure mathe- 



14 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

matics; and affords interest and benefit only to the few 
who have laboriously mastered the branches of learning 
which require for their advancement and comprehension 
the exercise and use of this development of the reasoning 
method. In proportion as a work is rigorously scientific, 
will its appeal be limited to scientists only. 

The other way of employing the intellect is by con- 
jecture, assumption, and apt combinations; discarding 
the unnecessary, simplifying the complex, ignoring 
minor details, and avoiding the actual. Characters, in- 
cidents, and situations are not copied but created, or 
combined into new wholes from parts selected because 
of their suitability. It does not imitate, it represents: 
it does not argue or demonstrate, it declares and asserts ; 
it does not measure, it compares ; it disregards the local 
or particular, noticing only prominencies or general 
characteristics. Its aim is perfection, of which beauty 
is a synonym, its method the imaginative, and its results 
poetry. In its representations it avoids the vulgar, the 
harsh, the restricted, and the commonplace, preferring 
the noble, the graceful, and the grand. Its rarest 
achievements have little contact with earth or humanity. 
They revel in the ethereal, and therefore provide en- 
joyment only for those who delight in the mystic and 
transcendental. A work of pure poetry will be esteemed 
by poets only. 

Neither Science nor Poetry restricts itself to but one of 
these methods. Science begins with imagining, and then 
by reasoning proceeds to substantiate its conjecture ; but 
apart from this commencement, every evidence of a re- 
sort to imagination detracts from the worth of the dis- 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 15 

quisition in which it is indulged. And poetry would 
dissipate its energy in fantasy, if it did not employ rea- 
son in guidance, in selecting its materials, and in con- 
structing its fabric; but if the use of the methods of 
reasoning is permitted to obtrude in poetry, the work is 
to that extent blemished. 

The regions which are severally adventured into by 
the intellect in reasoning and in imagining, and the dif- 
ferent procedures necessary in each instance, parallel the 
relations borne by the expanses of sea and land to phys- 
ical man, and his varying methods of traversing them. 
Imagination, like the mariner, dares into a realm having 
more of the vast, the wondrous, and the mysterious ; and 
as the explorations of navigators have increased the 
bounds of the known, so the poets have enriched, en- 
larged, and beautified all intellectual life. 

For its purposes of recording and representing. Litera- 
ture combines its materials into two fabrics: verse, the 
necessity of which is regularity, wherein the syllabic 
construction of sentences is constrained into equivalence 
with the time-beats measuring the succession of words 
and pauses composing its lines, which may use or dis- 
pense with recurring rhymes, and resort to elisions and 
inversions when necessary; and prose, where a series of 
words is broken by pauses occurring irregularly, which 
uses rhythm but avoids rhyme. Verse aims at saying 
things memorably and demands close attention; prose 
strives to express things clearly and is more easily com- 
prehended. 

Poetical passages may occur anywhere, in any book, 
but productions which are poetry are the results of the 



16 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

imaginative exercise of the intellect, in which reason- 
ing has been used in guidance and restraint, but not as 
a contributive factor. Such works address the imagin- 
ation, and arouse emotion, wonder, and aspiration, and 
their greatness reflects and evidences the degi'ee to which 
the authors have developed their intellects in both rea- 
soning and imagining, the familiarity with man and his 
world acquired by study and action; and the range of 
experience and observation with which they have en- 
riched their memories. For though a natural aptitude 
may be desirable, it alone is not sufficient. There is no 
instance of lasting greatness in poetry having been 
achieved without persistent culture and accumulated 
knowledge. The poets who are honored through the 
ages have been as remarkable for their attainments as 
for their productions. 

The essentials of poetry are : first, suggestiveness, which 
provides enduring worth and abounding interest, and is 
originated in creations, new revealings, new ideas, or new 
applications and aspects of old ideas. This subtle power 
may be compacted into a phrase or a line, or it may 
pervade an entire production, gaining accumulating force 
as the work proceeds. Second, evocation, the faculty of 
calling up associated ideas, or remembrances of similar 
scenes, thoughts, experiences, or feelings. It has no 
connected continuance, but detached effects are produced 
by a sentence or series of sentences, each of which is ex- 
panded by the witchery of the stimulated memory into a 
succession of similitudes and related ideas, and the lines 
which possess this power haunt the reader, and give 
charm to the poem. 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 17 

The term poetry is often incorrectly applied to any 
composition in which measured lines are used. The 
cause of this general misuse of the word is partly that 
song, the most familiar kind of poetry, is usually in 
metre; partly that verse is conducive to terseness, one 
of the qualities of good poetry. But an elaborate scien- 
tific treatise has been written in verse, and much prose 
is poetry, while some verse is mere rhyming. Not the 
regularity of the lines, but the nature of the matter, is 
the determining factor. 

The lyrical quality is sometimes assumed to be the dis- 
tinguishing attribute of poetry, and apparent spontaneity 
is regarded as of more importance than examples sanc- 
tion, or facts confirm. "We know that each happy col- 
location of words and pleasing ripple of syllables, though 
seemingly innocent of choice or change or labor, is 
the result of repeated revisions and re-arrangements ; and 
the impetuous flow of a writer's periods is, at best, but 
a characteristic of style, a fluctuant merit in the presen- 
tation, rather than an integral element of the work. It 
is a narrow and perverse view which regards a quality 
of style as more important than the informing principle 
of the production. ''The thought is the Muse, the versi- 
fication but her dress." If the poet lacks imaginative 
capacity, no fluency in his lines will compensate the de^ 
ficienc}^. Dr. Pemberton demonstrated that in style 
Glover's Leonidas is superior to Milton's Paradise Lost, 
but despite the doctor's proofs Paradise Lost is poetry, 
and Leonidas is merely verse. 

Pan from the reed produced song, and it is consistent 
with our idea of the half -god, half-beast, that his strains 



18 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

would be addressed to common feelings, and that spon- 
taneity would be an essential in his productions. There- 
fore those who maintain that the poet is one obsessed by- 
some overmastering emotion, feeling, or mood, who voices 
this in apparently unpremeditated song, have warrant 
for their belief. 

But after Pan came Apollo, and he from the lyre elicit- 
ed music quite other than that given forth by the reed. 
To enlighten, to dignify, to console, and to warn, are 
potentialities inseparable from our conception of godhood, 
and these qualities necessarily pertain to the productions 
of the followers of ' ' the lord of the unen-ing bow. ' ' 

Though the simple and the unpremeditated have for 
all time been varieties of poetry, they are neither the only 
nor the highest kinds. Such songs as accompanied the 
Bacchic processions had their origin from Pan. These 
which call The Nine to aid in artistically condensing 
knowledge, experience, passion, and thought into noble 
form, proceed from a higher source, and have a loftier 
importance. Though each of these may in form and man- 
ner assume the appearance of the other, the relative im- 
portance of the intentional and the spontaneous is as 
fixed and positive as that of the god and the half-god. 

The kinds of poetry are many, but that which deals 
most directly with human nature has always been re- 
garded as of the greatest importance. The Drama and 
Epopee have ever ranked as the most admirable achieve- 
ments of the artist in words. In these, character is dis- 
played, and the highest potency of suggestion is attained 
when by depicting the crimes and ruin of evil persons 
lessons and warnings are insinuated, or when bv ex- 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 19 

amples of restrained desire, disciplined emotion, and 
worthy aspiration, embodied in noble characters who by 
patient and wise conduct overcome the temptation, trials, 
and untoward happenings which beset human life, emula- 
tion is incited and magnanimity promoted in many whom 
axiom or exhortation would fail to impress, — for exam- 
ple, has advantages over precept. 

The ancient classification of the forms of poetry ac- 
cording to whether they were recited or represented has 
long been outgroAvn, and both the epic and the drama 
have in modern time been supplanted in popularity and 
effectiveness by prose fiction. 

Poetry, whether in the form of epic, play, or romance, 
can be assigned to two major classes, the purpose of the 
work determining in which division it belongs. If its 
chief aim is to display an admirable character to the end 
that emulation may be aroused, it is heroic. If it depicts 
erring or evil persons and its intent is warning, it is 
tragic. The Odyssey is an heroic epic, showing a wary 
and patient man as an example to others. The Iliad is a 
tragic epic, setting forth the fatal effects of wrath. The 
themes of plays have usually been chosen for tragic pur- 
poses, but Henry V is an heroic presentation ; and in the 
patriotic prince who refrains from involving Denmark in 
his meditated vengeance, an heroic aspect is given to the 
character of Hamlet. 

Comedy aims only at the amending of manners or con- 
duct, making use of banter and ridicule to effect its pur- 
pose. Its characters are necessarily less fine and noble 
than those of the play, and its examples constitute d. 
minor class. Those productions which are ' ' not intended 



20 PKOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

for the stage" may fitly be distinguished as dramas. 

As the older forms of epic and play have continued to 
lose attraction for both poets and audiences, prose fiction 
has increased in favor, enlarged its domain, appropriated 
the effects of its elders, and assumed their mission. The 
names romance and novel are now applied without dis- 
crimination, for the original distinctions have become ob- 
solete. To these works in which the imaginative method 
has been followed, where heroic or tragic purpose is evi- 
dent in the design, where the characters and incidents are 
creations or idealizations, and the reflections in force and 
appropriateness approximate to those occurring in the 
epic or the play, the term Romance may advantageously 
be restricted; reserving the designation "Novel" for 
works which copy or transcribe from actualities and deal 
with the commonplace or the transient, and thereby ex- 
ploit the field of the journalist. 

Epic, play, and romance share the same province — 
man's actions and emotions influenced in their progres- 
sion and succession by passion, situation, and conflicting 
purposes. They depict these by means of the figures 
through which the poet translates into such apprehensible 
representation as his craftsmanship enables him to com- 
mand, the images and ideas first called into being in his 
mind, and then cogitated until they assume fitting form 
on his page. 

The epic recites the successive incidents pertaining to a 
great event, not pausing to explain or account for the 
checks and hindrances Avhich retard, or the happy acci- 
dents which facilitate the consummation, but rapidly re- 
lating the occurrences, displaying the personages in 
speech and deed, and avoiding all digressions. 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 21 

The play concerns itself with how and why the repre- 
sented happenings came about, exhibits conduct under the 
stress of contending passions, and accounts for the ac- 
tions of its characters, whose minds and purposes are its 
chief interest, their physical qualities being borrowed 
from the actors. Its events are severely concentrated, 
and each incident is made to advance the action toward a 
situation which combines, in one culmination, the crisis 
of the passion and the development of the character. 

The romance originally confined itself to recounting the 
exploits of some much-doing individual, and consisted of 
a series of adventures loosely joined together, without any 
semblance of arranged plot. But there is little now that 
the play accomplishes which the romance does not suc- 
cessfully attempt. It differs, however, in being much 
longer, and therefore less rapid, sustained, and progres- 
sive in its action ; in being addressed to the one, instead 
of the many, which necessitates restraints, and greater 
particularization ; and in requiring more description, for 
the romancist must explain and depict all that the play- 
wright depends upon the actor and his accessories to fur- 
nish. But though greater latitude is allowed in these 
particulars, in each there is peril in excess. Description 
may easily assume too great a proportion ; and unneces- 
sary and episodical incidents which have no bearing upon 
the purpose, or didactic disquisitions in the guise of con- 
versations which neither elucidate the motives of the char- 
acters nor affect the action except to delay it, may un- 
duly prolong the work, to its injury. 

Description of inanimate objects is the lowest form of 
poetry, and great writers make very sparing use of it. 
They describe the emotions a scene excites, or the mood 



32 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

it awakens, and if it is connected with some important 
event they briefly summarise the conspicuous features so 
as to fix it in the memory of the reader. But they do 
not indulge in protracted description, because canvas and 
pigments are the proper means by which the impression 
of many objects seen simultaneously is best conveyed. 
Words can only represent the several details of a scene 
as a succession of items, rarely distinct and never in due 
proportion; and no matter how cleverly the poet may 
simulate in words the picture of the artist, the perform- 
ance will be inadequate, disproportionate, and probably 
false, as compared to the result produced by the use of 
the appropriate medium. 

The interest of a romance is derived from the combined 
qualities of its construction, its characters, its incidents, 
the knowledge it evidences, and the degree of that mastery 
of technical methods called style which it displays. 

In construction, plot is an advantage. Many works 
achieve popularity solely because of the skill and in- 
genuity with which they have been planned, and though 
estimable productions have been written without a pre- 
meditated design, the lack of it impairs their interest. 
Plot gives backbone to the sequence of incidents which 
provides variety and affords occasion for developing char- 
acter and carrying to completion the purpose of the work. 
The syminetrical relation of the parts to the whole, of de- 
tails to the general effect ; the due proportionment of in- 
cident, colloquy, and the recital which sacrificing the vi- 
vacity of dialogue gains in the clearness and despatch 
with which it conveys to the reader matters it is essential 
he should know ; these require consideration and thought, 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 23 

and are far-iiitated when plot is part of the construction. 

Characters are of greater importance than the story 
they take part in. The works which continue in peren- 
nial favor, age after age, owe their immortality to the 
personages they display and depict, and even lyrical 
poems are regarded with greater interest when it is 
discovered that they reveal the singer's self, express 
his joys and sorrows, and shadow forth his own per- 
sonality. 

The enduring characters in poetry are not transcrip- 
tions from actual individuals, but large generalizations 
of powers and qualities, transcending in capacity, ut- 
terance, and experiences the human beings with whom 
we come in contact, but conforming in conduct and re- 
sponsibility to what we recognise as human conditions. 
They are possible to humanity, but not common to man- 
kind. We acknowledge the reality of Achilles, Ulysses, 
Nestor, Qildj'-pus, Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth, Don Quixote, 
but none ever saw their originals. 

The highest order of personages in poetry are the cre- 
ations which surpass humanity in their qualities and en- 
dowments, but are conceivable and assented to because 
they act in consistence with the conditions in which 
they are placed ; the author 's page being their world. 
Prometheus, Satan, Mephistopheles, are such characters. 
The epithets ''beautiful" and "perfect" are applied to 
objects which manifest superiority over others of a like 
kind ; but when a force, or deed, or object is grand 
or admirable in such degree that comparison with any- 
thing else is impossible, it can only be described as sub- 
lime. These creations are of that order. 



24 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWBR 

Fictional characters are appreciable precisely as are 
those met with in ordinary life. The merely physically 
excellent are inferior to the cultivated, the intellectually 
notable are above the prominent, and the supremely 
wise, and good, and great, are superior to all others. 

Revealing and unfolding character is preferable to 
describing it. It is a greater achievement to display 
persons in action — striving, endeavoring, and battling 
with foes or circumstances, and evincing a variety of 
capacities and potentialities — than passively submitting 
and enduring, but giving no evidence of active power. 

And always knowledge of the inner man is of greater 
importance than dress or bearing, and moral struggles 
and mental perplexities than physical conflict or per- 
sonal prowess. 

When characters are introduced in whom real in- 
dividuals are recognised, whose oddities or mannerisms 
have been copied, or when persons whose actions and 
conversation are commonplace and trivial are given im- 
portance, poetry has been forsaken and another prov- 
ince of literature entered. 

It is the function and necessity of the journalist, 
whose field is the actual, to deal with transient aspects 
of ordinary life and to describe literally and in detail 
the affectations and peculiarities of living persons; for 
journalism ministers to the interests, habits, opinions, 
and sentiments of the entire community, only a portion 
of which is cultured. It aims at immediate and rapid 
effect, and seeks to bring about the persuasion of today, 
rather than the conviction of future years. When the 
romancist chooses to delineate the actual, his work be- 
comes journalism. 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 25 

Incidents should be pertinent to the design, illustra- 
tive of some significant condition or characteristic, suc- 
ceed each other naturally, have a definite bearing upon 
the result, and vary both in manner and subject. 

And they should avoid the actual, especially when 
dealing with crime, or irregular and mischievous in- 
dulgencies, for there is in some people who may be 
readers a singular propensity to imitate vicious actions. 
All extraordinary crimes become epidemic immediately 
after the publication of details concerning them. There- 
fore depictions of wrong-doing should be surrounded 
with such circumstances as to make actual application of 
the described method extremely difficult. And in cer- 
tain injudicious relations and incidents there are possi- 
bilities of evil, even when the completed purpose is ad- 
mirable, for many who never perceive the moral intent 
of a book may be excited and harmed by its incidental 
scenes. 

The comprehensive knowledge of a writer is rarely 
obtruded. It irradiates his every page; enriches his 
characterizations and themes with illuminating observa- 
tions and revealings of human nature and motives); 
gives fullness and power to the exposition by which 
complicated phenomena are made understandable ; and 
imperceptibly enlarges the views and stimulates the 
faculties of the reader. Apt references, shrewd com- 
parisons, illustrations, similes, and metaphors all evi- 
dence the attainments of an author, but the characteris- 
tic manifestations of vast knowledge are the large toler- 
ation which its possessors develop, and the conciliatory 
attitude they adopt toward movements, measures, and 
men. 



26 PROSE ROIklANCES OF BULWER 

Style fluctuates and changes like the fashions in dress. 
Ever and again words and collocations, after a period 
of over-use, are supplanted by newer phrasing, and poets 
whose styles were a part of their attraction to contempo- 
raries appear old-fashioned to more modern readers. But 
if their works possessed other qualities, these eventually 
assert themselves and are recognized, and then the un- 
escapable mannerisms of a former day are again re- 
garded with favor, and influence a newer generation of 
writers. 

To express his thoughts with such clearness that he 
is easily understood, to arrange his sentences so that 
they flow lucidly and orderly, and to cultivate terseness 
as a habit, are the necessities rather than the accomplish- 
ments of an author. Additional graces of diction, ca- 
dence, and arrangement may be added with advantage, 
but clearnesvS, sm.oothness, and strength are imperative 
needs, beyond the attainment of which it is chiefly de- 
sirable that vices of style and composition be avoided, as 
for instance pomposity, heaviness, redundancy of imag- 
ery or epithets, over-elaboration of minor ideas to the 
obscuration of the major one, and those verbal pretti- 
nesses which are quoted as ' ' purple patches. ' ' 

The poet addresses the best, and highest, and noblest. 
His audience is the cultivated minority of all time, and 
his concern is the wide applicability of his ideas, views, 
and creations ; the quality ' — not the quantity — of the 
effect he produces ; its permanence, not the rapidity with 
which it is attained. Whatever would limit that au- 
dience must be avoided, therefore his personages should 
be representatives of large classes of humanity, his pas- 
sions such as all humanity can sympathise w^th. His 



LITERATURE — POETRY — ROMANCE 27 

scenes should have their salient features described but 
not inventoried, and his language — eschewing patois 
and dialect — should be pure, and attractive to the edu- 
cated. 

It is the fate of all works of imagination to be reviewed 
by journalists and appraised as journalism; which is 
as inadequate as judging a ship and a sleigh by the 
same rules. The presentation of one aspect of a book, 
accurate and useful as far as it goes, is all that is possible 
under these circumstances, and this is accomplished 
worthil}^ by many newspapers. In more pretentious 
publications the results are usually less satisfactory ; the 
views are still those of the journalist. Method is pre- 
ferred to insight, fidelity in details to comprehensive 
perception, literal exactness to creative originality, and 
style to design; and there is often the added offense 
that the reviewer assumes superiority and affects con- 
descension in noticing the work he writes about. 

The reviewer's relation to literature is similar to that 
of the lawyer to justice, with this important difference: 
that the lawyer argues his case before a judge, who curbs 
irrelevant or abusive impertinence, and usually decides 
in accordance with testimony and fixed law. The lawyer 
may be intent on defeating justice. He may be a 
theorist, a bigot, an enemy's agent. The reviewer may 
have analagous disqualifications. But in the one in- 
stance there is a check upon viciousness, in the other 
nothing interferes with the publication of aught that 
malice may inspire or ignorance engender. 

Canons of criticism, like the laws of nature, are often 
appealed to, but nowhere authoritatively recorded. 

The aforegoing remarks are deductions from Bulwer's 



28 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

suggestions and arguments, and explain the principles on 
which his works were composed, and these principles 
are conformed to by the great productions of every 
famous writer from Homer to Goethe. 



BULWER 

EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER, 
the youngest son of General Earle Bulwer, was 
born in London on the twenty-fifth of May, 
1803. The General died in 1807, and the education and 
care of three sons devolved upon his widow, the care- 
ful, cultured, and religious heiress of the Lyttons of 
Knebworth. 

The future author was familiarised with books in his 
childhood, for he had the run of a huge miscellaneous 
library collected by his maternal grandfather, and found 
something interesting in various departments of it. He 
was precocious, ^VT•ote verses at a very early age, and 
corresponded with Doctor Parr and other notabilities 
while yet a boy. After a succession of private schools, 
where his oddities and quick temper made him popular 
with all but intimate with few, he was sent to Cambridge 
University, and achieved distinction as a speaker at 
the Union, won the Chancellor's medal for a poem on 
Sculpture, and was attracted to and acquired much 
knowledge of English history and old literature. 

The frequently repeated legend of a maniac having 
seized him from his nurse's arms and pythonised of his 
future greatness, the comparative decay of his family, 
the grief caused by an unfortunate early attachment, 
and a consciousness of powers in himself, combined to 



30 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

inspire him with the determination to exalt his name 
and house to something of its former splendor; and 
combining the active life with the studious, he read and 
wrote methodically, and travelled on foot over Britain 
and on horseback through France, everywhere noting, 
observing, and remembering, and laying the foundations 
of that knowledge and experience which informs his 
books. 

He had some intention of joining the army, and took 
the initial step of purchasing a commission. The im- 
probability of any early opportunity for active service 
deterred him from proceeding farther. Meeting Miss 
Wheeler, who two years later became his wife, caused 
the abandonment of the purposed military career, and 
necessitated some more immediately available source of 
livelihood. He decided to join authorship with parlia- 
mentary life, regarding the former vocation as the most 
difficult, and the latter that for which he was best fitted. 

Falkland was written in 1826, and PelJiam in the 
following year ; and on August 28, 1827, he made prob- 
ably the most calamitous and ill-resulting marriage ever 
consummated. Against the advice of friends and the 
warning of his mother, he united himself to an Irish 
beauty, and life-long vexations and worries were the 
least of the evil consequences. 

He was then in his twenty-fifth year, five feet nine 
inches in height, with very small feet, and an extremely 
slender frame. His visage was long. He had an im- 
mense aquiline nose, blue eyes, high retreating fore- 
head, and curling golden hair. Grillparzar called him 
wonderfully goodlooking (wunderliuebsch). Less im- 



BULWER 31 

partial people described him as distinguished in appear- 
ance. He was unaffected, frank and fascinating in con- 
versation, but exuberantly restless and uncomfortable 
when inactive; hot tempered, proud, shy, unduly sensi- 
tive, with supreme confidence in his own power and en- 
durance, but with a distrust of his luck, and a tendency 
towards superstition. He was utterly fearless of every- 
thing save wasps, of which he had a constitutional dread. 
Though easily led or induced, it was impossible to drive 
or coerce him. He was a trained boxer, skilled in sword- 
play, and an expert pistol-shooter. Sport had \no at- 
traction for him, but he liked card games, especially 
whist, was fond of fishing and of dogs, horses, birds, and 
perfumes, and he smoked tobacco almost incessantly. 
Intense despondency and dejection were frequent condi- 
tions with him, and from childhood he suffered from at- 
tacks of earache, which, increasing in severity as the 
years passed, brought on deafness in middle life, and 
ultimately caused his death. 

At the time of her first meeting with Bulwer in Dfe- 
eember, 1825, Rosina Wheeler — the daughter of am 
Irish squire who had dissipated his fortune, and a mother 
of materialistic views, who left her husband and became 
one of the household of her uncle. Sir John Doyle — 
was a self-possessed woman of twenty-three, and had 
gone about in London for some years. She was extra- 
ordinarily beautiful, well informed, and brilliantly Matty, 
but vain, extravagant, and impulsive, devoid of prudence 
or judgment, with an exalted opinion of her own abilities, 
qualities, and position ; she possessed much imperious- 
ness, and had little consideration for others. 



32 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

They met at a literary gathering. He was captivated, 
and she accepted the attentions of this favorite son of 
a rich widow, who disapproved of her as a prospective 
daughter-in-law. According to her own account, she 
had neither affection nor esteem for him, nor anything 
but dislike for any member of his family. But at the 
cost of an estrangement between mother and son, and 
the consequent sacrifice of the allowance hitherto made 
him, they married and began housekeeping in accord- 
ance with his station, but in unwise disproportion to 
their means, and to provide for their maintenance he 
adopted literature as a profession. 

For the next nine years Bulwer's life was one of un- 
ceasing literary drudgery, with the added labors of an 
active member of parliament after May 1, 1831, when 
he was elected for St. Ives in the last unreformed house 
of commons. During this period he published twelve 
romances; a history of Athens; a disquisition on England 
and the English; the essays collected in The Student; a 
political pamphlet on The Crisis; Tlie Duchesse de la 
Valliere, a play; a volume of poems; and concun^ently 
contributed largely to the Edinburgh Revieiv, the Wesi- 
mmster Revieiv, the New Monthly Magazine, the Ex- 
aminer, and other journals, wherein many of his articles 
remain interred; and other works were written but not 
published. 

The intense application necessitated by the composition 
of works so many and various would have tasked the 
strongest of constitutions, under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances. Bulwer's health never was robust. His 
home-life was made miserable by what his wife called 



BULWER 33 

her ' ' irritability of temper and easily wounded feel- 
ings"; arid he was assailed and abused outrageously in 
periodicals and journals. 

The insolence and personalities indulged in by con- 
tributors to the press at the outset enraged one who saw 
no reason for disregarding expressions which in other 
departments of public life would necessitate a hostile 
meeting, for these were the days of duels. Most of the 
abusive writers were of a sort that recognition would 
have dignified, but one — Scott 's son-in-law — was of 
better station than those he abetted, and his remarks 
were conspicuously mean and unfair. Upon him Bulwer 
retaliated in '*A Letter to the Editor of the Quarterly 
Review," which with any but one other man in Britain 
would have provoked a challenge. But tLockhart real- 
ised that he had aroused a dangerous antagonist, and 
prudently made no sign. His attacks from this time 
forward were published in Fraser's Magazine, where the 
responsibility was assumed by Maginn; and Bulwer be- 
came disdainful of the criticism of the day as he learned 
more about its instruments and its motives. 

Much of the journalistic hostility had its origin in a 
misapprehension of his circumstances, which he was too 
proud and masculine to attempt to remove. His con- 
temporaries erroneously regarded him as wealthy by in- 
heritance, and resented what they considered an unfair 
competition. 

And adopting literature as a profession, he declined to 
conform to the slovenly and intemperate usages of most 
of its followers. He dressed in accordance with his 
station and after the manner of his class, and this eon- 



34 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

trasting the customary negligence of journalists, gave 
occasion for many references to his clothing and the 
application of the terms fop, exquisite, dandy. It was 
quite natural for the untidy and equivocal to rail at the 
man of gentle birth who conformed instinctively with 
the customs of his kind — customs of which they had no 
knowledge save by observation from afar. 

Labor and worry and vexations embittered and irri- 
tated the temper of the overworked author. The com- 
plainings and caprices of his wife were added torments, 
and under the strain he became ill. Travel and changes 
of residence were resorted to with no benefit to either 
health or household peace, and the domestic infelicity 
became so intolerable that from 1834, after their return 
from a visit to Italy, Bulwer and his wife lived apart, 
she and the two children at their home, to which he paid 
brief visits, he in chambers at the Albany ; and they were 
corresponding with a view to effecting a separation. 

In 1836, in reply to her representations, he wrote his 
wife that not desiring to occasion her the anguish she 
seemed to feel at their parting, they would forget the 
object of their late correspondence and try living to- 
gether once more. If the experiment was to succeed, he 
entreated her to have some indulgence for his habits 
and pursuits; not to complain so often of being a pris- 
oner and dull and so forth; and not to think it encum- 
bent upon her to say or insinuate everything that could 
gall or mortify him, by way of showing she did not eon- 
descend to flatter. 

On the day appointed for his joining her again, he 
sent word that he was too ill to come. She drove to the 



BULWER 35 

Albany. His servant was out, and her knocking being 
continuous he went to the door and admitted her. See- 
ing two teacups on his tray, she made a scene and then 
returned home, and as a consequence he wrote her that 
on no consideration would he live with her again, that 
''her last proceedings towards him — indecorous, un- 
womanly and thoroughly unprovoked and groundless — 
were nothing in themselves compared with what he had 
borne for years, but they were the last drop and the cup 
overflowed. Looking on one side to all the circum- 
stances of their marriage, to all the sacrifices he then 
made, to all the indulgence he had since shown her, to 
the foolish w'eakness with which, when insufferably pro- 
voked, he had time after time yielded to promises of 
•amendment never fulfilled ; and looking on the other 
side to her repeated affronts and insults — some private, 
some piiblic; her habitual contempt of the respect due 
to Mm, her violent language, uncertain caprices, her 
own journal (a fair transcript of her thoughts) corre- 
spondent with her letters and words, and filled with the 
most injurious aspersions of him and his — his relations, 
who ought to be as sacred to her as to him, the eternal 
subject of gross, dishonoring vituperation, — all this 
placed on her side of the balance left nothing in his mind 
but such deep and permanent impressions of the past as 
to enforce this calm and stern determination as to the 
future. ' ' 

The resulting deed of separation, dated April 19, 1836, 
provided for the payment of four hundred pounds year- 
ly for herself, with one hundred for the children so long 
as they remained in her care. She had announced that 



36 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

were her "poor little unhappy children out of the ques- 
tion, she would not under any persuasion take more than 
two hundred pounds a year from him. As it was, she 
begged explicitly to state that no illness, no want, no pri- 
vation, should ever induce her to accept one farthing 
from him beyond the stipulated five hundred pounds — 
if she lived she could make more. ' ' 

In June she quitted Berrymead, taking whatever of 
its contents she desired, and removed to Ireland to the 
home of her friend, Miss Greene, who had forthwith to 
9,ssume all care of the children, for the mother visited 
at country houses, often for two weeks at a time. As a 
consequence Miss Greene became greatly attached to 
both boy and girl and they to her, and this incensed the 
mother, who resolved to remove with them to Bath. 

Bulwer had reason to dislike Miss Greene, but he was 
aware of her devotion to his children, and he decided 
they should remain in her charge. This gave his wife 
an opportunity to appeal to the courts, but she declined 
to avail herself of it, and her new Bath friends proved 
to be plunderers and involved her in debt. Then she 
wrote a novel, Cheverley, in which, thinly disguised, her 
husband and his family are held up to execration. The 
book was successful, and others followed, in all of which 
odious charges are insinuated, always in the guise of 
fiction. 

Assisted by the nameless and the vile, and by some 
who were neither, Bulwer 's wife pursued this policy of 
indirect aspersion for years, and by such expedients as 
reporting that influential reviewers had asked her if one 
of the characters in her novel was really meant for her 



BULWER 37 

husband, , she contrived to direct her readers to see in 
the evil things depicted and described, vicious and dis- 
creditable acts perpetrated by him. These reiterated in- 
sinuations never took the shape of direct charges ; noth- 
ing was advanced in confirmation or support of them. 
She asserted that he was constantly under her gaze, that 
she had letters in her possession which proved that he 
persecuted her, but she evaded all responsibility or in- 
vestigation by guardedly avoiding any positive accusa- 
tion, and though the courts were open to her, she pre- 
ferred another line of action. 

The wisdom of ignoring slander and abuse is generally 
admitted, but that course does not secure immunity from 
its effects. Here is an instance where neither notice nor 
reply was vouchsafed to unjustifiable attacks persisted 
in for more than twenty years. Every act of Bulwer's 
life contradicted the accusations, and he scorned even to 
refer to them. Those who knew him condemned the in- 
sulting innuendoes. No reputable newspaper or maga- 
zine paid attention to the malicious publications, and 
the libeller suffered and lost friends. But many per- 
sons became acquainted with the uncontradicted calum- 
nies, and assumed that attitude of spurious impartiality 
which makes an equal distribution of blame, on the gen- 
eral ground that in no case can right be entirely on one 
side. Others, from a perverted feeling of chivalry, es- 
poused the vilifier's cause; and some gave eager cre- 
dence, and accepted the misrepresentations as verities. 

Mrs. Bulwer was resourceful and shrewd. In deal- 
ing with publishers, she pointed out that her books were 
' ' a very good speculation, as the name alone sells them. ' ' 



38 PROSE ROMANCES OP BULWER 

The firm of Whittaker and Company, announced as the 
publishers of one novel printed at Taunton, promptly 
ijenied all connection with it ; whereupon she propounded 
the plan of advertising that "from the very disgraceful 
means that have been taken to suppress Very Success- 
ful the remaining copies are selling at three pounds a 
copy." 

Her books were productive of revenue. For the first, 
second, and third, she received fifteen hundred pounds ; 
but apart from great vituperative eloquence and sarcasm 
they possessed little merit, and became monotonous, so 
that each succeeding novel had a less sale than its prede- 
cessor. 

The attacks upon her husband may have been the re- 
sult of hallucination, but it is more probable they were 
deliberate concoctions for a definite purpose. Her ex- 
travagances really show that she was inordinately in 
love with Bulwer notudthstanding her protestations to 
the contrary. No one exercises thought, tongue, and 
pen perpetually upon an object he despises; and her 
immitigable jealousy, her inability to put him out of her 
mind, her avoidance of the obvious remedy for her as- 
serted wrongs, her rejection of the advances of men who 
were attracted to her as friends and would fain have 
been more — all evidence the enduring strength of her 
passion, just as her dislike for everyone to whom he was 
attached proves the unreasonableness and exacting na- 
ture of an affection which could not tolerate even rela- 
tions as sharers in his attentions. She had agreed to the 
separation, feeling confident in her power to bring him 
again to her side, and regarded that measure as a de- 



BULWER 39 

vice ' ' to bring her to her senses. ' ' But when two years 
passed without any advances from him, she concluded 
that she was too far away, and resolved to leave Dublin. 
The inhibition against the removal of the children was 
construed as a sign that her absence from England was 
desired. Therefore she hastened to Bath alone. 

Before their marriage he had expressed his objection 
to her essaying authorship, and his sensitiveness and 
pride in his family were well known characteristics. So 
to compel him to notice or communicate with her, she 
wrote a novel and lampooned him and his relations, but 
in a way which admitted of repudiation if her design 
should succeed, and reconciliation result. That very act 
made the thing she most desired an impossibility; for 
however easily Bulwer might have overlooked fictitious 
depictions wherein he was subjected to insult and mis- 
representation, he was too tenderly devoted to his mother 
to forgive the attacks upon her. When a London news- 
paper published an offensive paragraph about his wife, 
he added his name as nominal plaintiff in the successful 
suit for libel which followed, but when she attempted a 
prosecution of Henry Bulwer for some fabricated griev- 
ance, he refused to abet her action, balked her design, 
and through his attorney notified her that he felt it his 
duty to withdraw the liberty of access to their children 
hitherto granted, and that by a recent act of parliament 
she could apply to the court of chancery for that ac- 
cess, and that then all her general complaints against her 
husband could be heard. 

No appeal was made to the court, for this would have 
ended her activities without achieving their object. The 



40 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

only finality agreeable to her was restoration to the po- 
sition she had forfeited. When he married, Bulwer had 
vowed to endow her with all his worldly goods, and she 
had promised to love, honor, and obey him. She ignored 
her part of the bargain, but insisted upon the strict ful- 
fillment of his, yet the extracts from her journal which 
have been published by her executrix are of a nature 
to arouse surprise that her execrable behavior was toler- 
ated so long. 

Her journalistic efforts to compel him to seek peace 
with her were renewed first at Florence, then at Geneva. 
At the latter place she contracted debts for which her 
husband was sued, and her trustee informed her that her 
allowance must be stopped until the amount was paid. 
This she construed into another grievance; and added 
to the list of her accusations, that her husband had 
leagued with others in a conspiracy to impoverish and 
ruin her. 

Meanwhile Bulwer 's mother had died. He had suc- 
ceeded to the Knebworth estate, and was consequently 
of greater importance and wealth. His titles were al- 
ways quickly annexed by his wife, but she began to 
realize that her schemes were not accomplishing her pur- 
pose. Knebworth was his, and she had no share in it, 
and the separation she had expected to be but temporary 
was lengthening inconveniently. In letters to her inti- 
mates she made further charges against her husband, 
advancing assumptions as facts, and attributing every 
trouble which her own actions caused her to his machin- 
ations. She returned to England in 1847, and consulted 
attorneys as to the feasibility of steps for compelling 



BULWER 41 

an increase in her allowance. They could only advise 
a suit for divorce, but that was precisely what she did 
not want. 

Bulwer's attitude toward her at this time is shown 
by a passage in Augustus Hare 's autobiography. 

At Ampthill on Christmas day, 1877, he relates, "At 
dinner the conversation turned on Lord and Lady Lyt- 
ton ; she was a Miss Doyle, a distant cousin of Sir Fran- 
cis, and shortened his father's life by her vagaries and 
furies. After his father's death Sir Francis left her 
alone for many years. Then it was represented to him 
that she had no other relations, and that it was his duty 
to look after her interests, and he consented to see her, 
and at her request to ask Sir E. Bulwer to give her an- 
other hundred a year. This Sir Edward said he was 
most willing to do, but that she must first give a written 
retraction of some of the horrible accusations she had 
brought against him. When Lady Bulwer heard that 
this retraction was demanded of her, she turned upon 
Sir Francis with the utmost fury, and abused him with 
every vile epithet she could think of. She afterwards 
wrote to him and directed to Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, 
Receiver of Her Majesty's Customs (however infam- 
ous) Thames Street, London. 'But,' said Sir Francis, 
' I also had my day. I was asked as to her character. I 
answered, "from your point of view I believe her char- 
acter to be quite immaculate, for I consider her to be so 
perfectly filled with envy, hatred, malice, and all un- 
charitableness, as to have no possible room left for the 
exercise of any tender passion." ' " 

The failure of her attempts to make her husband seek 



42 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

reconciliation, the lessened sums obtainable for novels 
which the name alone sold, the unwelcome discovery that 
her husband neither needed nor noticed her, that she had 
not alienated any of his friends nor retarded his career, 
infuriated her against all who were disinclined to hate 
him without some better reason than her command. The 
Bulwers had hitherto been the main theme of her def- 
amations. Now her husband's friends — Forster, Dick- 
ens, Fonblanque, Hayward, Disraeli, Cockburn, and Jer- 
den — were subjected to virulent abuse, and she added 
to the list of her victims Lord Melbourne, against whom 
an atrocious charge was made on the authority of Doctor 
Maginn. Lady Morgan, Lady Holland, Lady Blemng- 
ton, and Mrs. Norton, all fared badly at her hands. Mrs. 
Wyndham Lewis was scolded, and the most cruel stab at 
Miss Landon's character was made by this former 
friend. Lady Hotham had made her will in Mrs, Bul- 
wer's favor, had entertained her at Brighton, and taken 
her to Paris. The Chevalier de Berard had secured the 
publication of articles written by Mrs. Bulwer for which 
liberal payments were made, had supplied gossip about 
her husband, and disseminated her reports. She wrote 
to the Chevalier, "I would not have Lady Hotham 's 
bad breath and bad heart for all her money." He 
showed the letter to Lady Hotham, who made a new 
will in which the Chevalier supplanted Mrs. Bulwer, and 
he and his benefactress were duly pilloried in the next 
of her novels. 

Her oblique philippics against her husband contain 
odious charges and descriptions, but as illustrations of 
his character and conduct they are utterly valueless. 



BULWEB 43 

Wherever the charges caxi be examined refutation re- 
sults, and they are contradicted by everything we know 
about him. He was constant in his friendships, and re- 
tained through life the regard of all who were per- 
mitted to be more than acquaintances. He was tender 
to animals — the horse which had served him was never 
sold, the dog which "had grieved at his departure and 
rejoiced at his return" has a monument at Knebworth. 
Those who knew him most intimately say he was free 
from envy, and his writings confirm their verdict. Jus- 
tin McCarthy, the most vicious of his defamers, admits 
that he has ' ' heard too many instances of his frank and 
brotherly friendliness to utterly obscure writers, who 
could be of no sort of service to him or to anybody, 
not to feel satisfied of his unselfish good nature. ' ' Yet 
his wife pictures him as false, cruel, mean, envious, and 
charitable for advertising purposes only. 

Sometimes her insinuations are merely devices to 
create a demand for her novels, as when she claims that 
publishers were intimidated and injunctions threatened 
by her husband. Often they are absurd, as where he is 
represented as so potent over writers and owners of 
periodicals that only such matter as he approved of 
was permitted to appear in their pages. Frequently 
they are foolish, as when he is pictured as the employer 
of an army of spies and poisoners and the wielder of a 
mysterious power by which her literary ambitions were 
frustrated. Occasionally they are impossible, as where 
she hints that in disguise, under another name, and at 
his boyhood's home, he wooed to her ruin the daughter 
of one of his mother's tenants. Always her misrepre- 



44 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

sentations are vile and offensive. Never is he pictured 
as other than a fiend, herself as less than an angel. 

She was unable to goad him into controversy. The 
manufacture of scandal went on, but elicited no attention 
from him. Neither book, nor letter, nor accredited 
report of Bulwer contains a syllable derogatory to his 
wife. And so desirous was he that only the most con- 
siderate interpretation should be put upon her actions, 
that by his will he restricted all access to his papers 
which contain the means of refuting the calumnies orig- 
inating with his wife, to his son, and desired that no 
other person should write any biography of him. 

His daughter Emily had been in Germany, and ac- 
companied the Baroness de Ritter to England in 1848. 
She caught a cold which gradually grew worse. The 
Baroness remained with her in London until her own 
family requiring her attention, and the doctors assuring 
her that absolutely no danger was to be apprehended, 
she left Emily in the care of Miss Greene and a nurse, 
and returned to Vienna. A thing in the form and wear- 
ing the dress of a woman learned of this illness, ac- 
quainted the mother, and accompanied her to the house, 
where they engaged the room the Baroness had vacated. 
Against the protest of the physicians, who said that emo- 
tion would endanger Miss Lytton's life, they persisted 
in remaining, and went to Emily's room. Bulwer had 
been at Bayou Manor absorbed in the writing of Harold. 
That task completed, he came to London and found his 
daughter dangerously ill, and her recovery imperilled 
by the presence of these two. By his orders they were 
ejected, but Emily died the next evening. 



BULWER 45 

Mrs. Bulwer was not the culpable party in this out- 
rage, which Avas engineered and participated in by a 
malicious busybody. But what Mrs. Bulwer had been 
unwilling to believe before, she was compelled to ac- 
knoAvledge now. All possibility of reconciliation was 
gone forever. Her daughter 's death made her a criminal 
in the eyes of her husband. She would not be per- 
mitted to inhabit Knebworth. Her attempts to blight 
his reputation had failed, and her only satisfaction was 
the knoAvledge that she had inflicted a great grief upon 
him. The collapse of her air-castles made her desperate 
and reckless, and eager to cooperate with anyone in any 
way to spoil his enjoj^ment of what she was debarred 
from sharing. Minor opportunities arose and were util- 
ized, but politics furnished occasion for the most start- 
ling performance. 

The unscrupulousness of the conductors of parliamen- 
tary elections is notorious. No party abstains from dis- 
graceful practices if by these means votes may be won ; 
and election agents have always been preeminently fertile 
in stratagems which no honorable man would counte- 
nance. Bulwer, always a protectionist, once had the 
misfortune to do the whigs an important service, but he 
declined to join the party, and thereby incurred their 
hate and hostility. By great efforts and small majori- 
ties they twice succeeded in defeating him, and thus he 
was out of parliament for eleven years. In 1852 he was 
returned for Hertfordshire, and continued to represent 
that constituency until he was made a peer. 

In their anxiety to keep him out of parliament the 
whigs made use of his wife, not only by references in 



46 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

placards and fabricated addresses, but even by bringing 
her to the hustings. In 1858 he was returning thanks 
to the voters, when an equipage decorated in yellow — 
the color of the whigs — was driven alongside his car- 
riage, and one of its occupants, a woman dressed in 
yellow, and carrying a yellow sunshade, addressed him. 
He did not recognize in the florid, portly dame, the sylph 
he had known twenty years before, and his deafness pre- 
vented him from hearing what she said. Putting his 
hand to his ear to intercept the sound, he bent forward 
to listen to her, and her words were : 

''Wretch! don't you know me? I am your wife!" 

Bulwer bowed to the voters, and drove away leaving 
her to harangue at her pleasure. 

This encounter exhausted his toleration. Concluding 
that only madness could account for her degrading her^ 
keli into the hireling of a dishonorable political opposi- 
tion, he instructed attorneys to employ medical authori- 
ties and enquire into her sanity. Their report confirmed 
his surmise, and by his orders the necessary formalities 
were gone through and she was committed to a private 
madhouse. His political opponents turned the occur- 
rence to every possible account. 

Too ill to attend to the matter himself, friends inter- 
fered and took the business in hand. After three weeks 
detention she was released, and his son accompanied the 
wretched woman abroad, but so obnoxious and intolerable 
had everything connected with her become, that by thus 
associating with his mother, to spare his father further 
vexation and annoyance, Robert Lytton became for a 
time estranged from one parent, while the vagaries and 



BULWER 47 

tempests of violence of the other made the four months 
during which he endured her caprices an unforgettable 
horror. When made aware of the motives which had 
actuated Robert Lytton, and satisfied that the mother 
had failed to pervert him, the affectionate relations be- 
tween father and son were restored, while by a new deed 
the allowance to Mrs. Bulwer was increased to five hun- 
dred pounds per year. 

The failure to win her son's support and affection away 
from the father dampened but did not extinguish the 
ardor of the terribly disappointed woman. Publishers 
declined her offered books, but still she found oppor- 
tunity to repeat and add to her tale of supposed wrongs, 
still she sought occasion to mortify the owner of Kneb- 
worth, even planning the organization of a public sub- 
scription to herself as an object of charity. Her ungov- 
ernable temper drove away some who wished to befriend 
her. She tolerated only those who entirely agreed with 
her. Quarrels with printers and frequent changes of 
lawyers supplied excitement which seemed necessary to 
her existence. Gradually her circle dwindled, and she 
gravitated to lower social environments, feeling acutely 
the. contrast her condition presented to that which had 
been, and might have continued but for her determina- 
tion to compel what she could easily have induced. Not- 
withstanding her "fear that sudden good fortune such 
as her brain being turned by a widow's cap might prove 
fatal to her," she survived her husband until 1882, 
dying in her eightieth year. 

Had she possessed a little common sense, her life would 
have been a happy and honored one. No one more needed 



48 PROSE ROMANCES OP BULWER 

a wise counselor, no one rejected counsel with greater 
scorn. She devoted her abilities to an unworthy scheme, 
and was unscrupulous in her methods. She failed in all 
her apparent purposes, and wrecked her own life, but 
she effected more than she probably perceived. Not only 
did she harass and embitter her husband's life, cause 
him to prefer solitude to society, and other lands to 
England: she also diverted the main current of his 
energies from political into literary channels. But for 
his defeat at Lincoln, to which she contributed, Bulwer 
might have been premier of England after Aberdeen. 
As it was, the chance came later ; but he was then infirm, 
deaf, griefworn, and too appreciative of the abilities 
and services of Disraeli to take any steps except such as 
would further the claims of his friend. 

Filling in the replies to a series of questions in one of 
the books of Confessions once popular, Bulwer in 1866, 
against the query ' ' What do you love most in the world ? ' ' 
wrote, ' ' The woman I hate the most. ' ' 

In 1836, after the disruption of his home, Bulwer was 
compelled to relax his strivings for fame, and care for 
his health, which was now in so wretched a condition 
that he despaired of recovery and regarded his days as 
already numbered. Physicians advised travel and rest, 
so he visited different parts of England and Ireland, and 
made journeys through France, Germany, and Italy. His 
eager mind, which could not be constrained into inactiv- 
ity, was directed toward other exercises, change of study 
supplying an equivalent for rest, with the further effect 
of increasing the range and variety of form of his literary 
productions. 



BULWER 49 

The efforts to regain lost health, beginning in 1831, 
continued until 1844, when he became interested in the 
water cure, and as a patient at the Malvern Hydropathic 
institution, derived much benefit. In an article con- 
tributed to the New Monthly Magazine, he called atten- 
tion to the advantages of the treatment. 

Meanwhile an acquaintance with Mr. Macready, and 
sympathy with that gentleman's desire to render the 
theatre worthy of the patronage of intelligent human 
beings, caused Bulwer to turn his attention to the stage. 
He wrote a series of plays, of which a few were produced 
and have retained their popularity. But Mr. Macready 
found that the management of a London theatre was un- 
profitable, and with his retirement the author of The 
Lady of Lyons, Richelieti, and Money, lost all incentive 
to write for the stage. Several plays which he reckoned 
among the best of his works have never been performed, 
and therefore remain unpublished. 

The playwright experiences were of great importance 
in Bulwer 's artistic development. They gave him larger 
and sounder perceptions of the dignity and effectiveness 
of dramatic methods, familiarized him with the tools of 
the profession — the actors, the stage, and its accessories 
— and supplemented his general information regarding 
structure, form, and conduct by knowledge, practically 
acquired, of the respective values of dialogue and narra- 
tion, incidents and situations ; and enabled him to recog- 
nise quickly the dramatic possibilities in a story, a char- 
acter, or an event. After the brief period during which 
he was engaged in the production of acted plays, notice- 
able advances in his methods, and higher achievements in 
his work are apparent. Between Maltravers wliich pre- 



50 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ceded and Night and Morning which followed his writ- 
ings for the stage, the difference is very great. In the 
latter the construction is more symmetrical, the situa- 
tions more compact and poignant, the characters are 
more deftly moved and displayed in action, and the con- 
densation is greater. And all his succeeding works are 
essentially dramatic in structure and presentation. 

On the accession of Queen Victoria in 1838, Bulwer 
was knighted as a recognition of literature, Herschel 
being similarly honored as a representative of science. 

The succeeding decade of his life was crowded with 
sorrows and griefs and disappointments, but it was also 
the period of his most wonderful productiveness. From 
the harsh and painful real he turned to that world where- 
in fairer conditions are found, and in the abstraction of 
artistic creation he found refuge from the iron visitations 
of calamity. 

The Earl of Durham, a friend and statesman whose 
views and policy he most cordially admired, betrayed by 
the ministry which had begged his aid, died broken- 
hearted in 1840, without having attained to the power 
and position to which his ability and popularity entitled 
him. At the general elections in 1841 Bulwer was de- 
feated at Lincoln, and ceased to be a member of parlia- 
ment. In 1844 his mother died and he succeeded to the 
KnebAvorth estate, taking the name of Lytton in com- 
pliance with the terms of her will, and in 1848 occurred 
the tragic death of his daughter. 

The loss of his seat in the house of commons changed 
the course of Bulwer 's life. Hitherto politics had been 
studied and cultivated with as much assiduity as liter- 



BULWER 51 

ature. He had regarded his writings as auxiliary ex- 
pressions of his views, extending his influence and estab- 
lishing his reputation, linking his name to his land's 
language, and securing future recognition. But for con- 
temporary influence, the career of a successful parlia- 
mentarian had appealed with greater force to his ambi- 
tion than literary fame, and in his plans had always had 
the foremost consideration. His defeat at Lincoln and 
the offensive notoriety given to his domestic infelicity at 
recurring elections, added to increasing deafness, fragile 
health, and great griefs, caused him to abandon parlia- 
mentary life. Though he contested Lincoln again un- 
successfully in 1847, he declined other seats and resigned 
himself to the relinquishment of what had been his chief 
aspiration. 

He had won more successes than are usually obtained 
by a member unattached to either of the great parties. 
He was among the earliest of those who objected to the 
taxes on knowledge, and his speeches against the news- 
paper stamp duties had much to do with their immediate 
reduction and ultimate repeal. By the Dramatic Au- 
thor 's Act, which he carried, he removed the evils under 
which playwrights had labored, putting an end to the 
wrongful appropriation of their productions without 
recompense. He advocated changes in the corn laws, 
but always opposed their repeal. His objections to the 
Irish Coercion Act were ineffectual, but many of his 
phrases on the subject are still current. His speech 
against negro apprenticeship changed sufficient votes to 
defeat the government, and hastened emancipation. His 
efforts in the house were steadily supported by his articles 



52 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

in the New Monthly Magazine, the Examiner, and the 
Monthly Chromcle, and when William IV, dismissing 
the whig government, installed Wellington as premier, 
Bulwer issued a pamphlet in defense of the fallen min- 
isters, which affected the ensuing elections, and assisted 
in returning them to power. Again in 1838, by an article 
in the Edinburgh Review, he greatly helped the whigs. 
But though commending some of their measures, he dis- 
liked and distrusted the party, and when the anti-corn 
law programme was adopted, and a fiscal measure made 
their distinctive principle, all his relations with the whigs 
definitely ended. They changed their policy in the direc- 
tion of popularity; his convictions were unaltered, and 
he remained a protectionist. 

His political career thus arrested, the management of 
his property and the education of his son and daughter 
were his only occupations apart from literary work, on 
which he now concentrated all his attention and energy. 
In The Last of the Barons he made romance the elucida- 
tor of history ; in Zanoni he raised it to equivalence with 
the epic ; and in Lucretia he rivalled the mightiest of old 
tragedies. A volume of reflective verse, The New Timon, 
King Arthur; and a translation of Schiller's poems 
evidenced the variety of his industry. 

During these years the master of Knebworth was a 
lonely man. He entertained largely, but his deafness 
precluded familiar converse with guests other than old- 
time friends. An honored visitor at the houses of those 
in whom he reposed confidence, he had grown suspicious 
of strangers, shunned the circles where political enemies 
might be encountered, and was reserved and guarded 



BULWBR 53 

when whig writers or politicians were present. His 
capacity for work remained as great as when in earlier 
years he had astonished S. C. Hall by having articles 
ready for him in the morning which could not have been 
begun until late in the preceding evening. The Lady of 
Lyons was written in ten days, Harold in three weeks. 
Sometimes he was busy with two or more tasks concur- 
rently, and often he became so absorbed in the work he 
was evolving that his actions, dress, and speech for 
months at a stretch partook of the character of those 
he was portraying. 

He spent much of his time abroad, but continued com- 
position wherever he went, and kept up an extensive 
correspondence. He was a competent judge of art, and 
while travelling he gathered paintings, sculptures, tapes- 
tries, and porcelains with which he adorned Knebworth 
after completing the house in harmony with his mother's 
plans. His close observation and acute discernment of 
the tendencies of measures and movements were shown 
by his forecasting the rise of the house of Sardinia; 
pointing out the insecurity of Louis Philippe, and the 
renewed growth of Napoleonism; and presaging Peel's 
desertion of the land-owners. 

He was in Italy when Peel announced his detennina- 
tion to repeal the corn laws ; and the treachery of a leader 
to the party which had trusted him, and his conviction 
of the mischievous unwisdom of the proposed changes, 
reawakened his political ardor. He returned to Eng- 
land, published the Letters to John Bull in defense of 
protection, contested Hertfordshire successfully, and in 
1852 reentered parliament and straightway attained a 



54 PROSE RO]\IANCES OF BULWER 

commanding influence in the house. He could not take 
part in debate, but he was one of the dozen foremost 
orators, and spoke frequently and effectively, though 
speechmaking tasked his strength severely. Under the 
excitation it produuced he was energetic, rapid, and force- 
ful, but after the effort his spare frame trembled, and 
he reeled in his walk as if inebriated. But so resolute 
and self-compelling was the man that physical disabili- 
ties which Disraeli thought were insuperable, aggravated 
by deafness which made the once ' ' lover-like ' ' voice dis- 
cordant, were triumphed over, and by the most critical 
assembly in the world he was recognised as an orator, 
and delivered speeches which, outlasting their immediate 
purpose, continue to command attention. 

Bulwer's speeches in the house of commons in their 
combination of present effectiveness and enduring in- 
terest are admirable achievements. Elsewhere and often 
he demonstrated his mastery of the art of the orator to 
varied and sometimes hostile audiences, whose attention 
he always secured. Opulence of information, thorough 
mastery of the subject, and knowledge of mankind, char- 
acterise all his addresses. 

Parliamentary duties and the occupations which ac- 
companied their discharge were not permitted to monop- 
olize all his attention. He continued to produce ro- 
mances which were enriched by the experiences acquired 
as a legislator, and dealt, at least incidentally, with mat- 
ters pertinent to the passing time, or relevant to existing 
conditions. Emigration as a career for the educated was 
advocated in The Caxtons; the inutility of haste and 
unwisdom of class antagonism were enforced in My 



BULWER 55 

Novel] the ease with which a propensity not necessarily- 
blameworthy may be nursed into a vice was shown in 
What Will He Do With It f ; the weaknesses inherent in 
unrestrained democratic rule were exposed in Harold; 
and the evil possibilities accompanying commercial de- 
velopment were indicated in A Strange Story. A play, 
"Not so Bad as we Seem," was written for a company 
of distinguished amateurs which included Charles Dick- 
ens, John Forster, and Douglas Jerrold. St. Stephens, 
a series of portraits of past political leaders; and Corn- 
flowers, a collection of poems, w^ere other additions to 
the list of his works. 

Prudent and careful in business matters, he made fre- 
quent purchases of houses and properties, which were 
invariably disposed of advantageously, and he never had 
any misunderstandings with his publishers. 

He would not submit to imposition, but he bore no re- 
sentment toward those w^ho attempted to over-reach him. 
Hazlitt unsuccessfully tried something nearly allied to 
blackmail, yet Bulwer made generous mention of the 
Irish critic in England and the English, and contributed 
a kindly notice of his WTitings to a posthumous publica- 
tion of Hazlitt 's Remains. 

He was self reliant and intrepid. His first election for 
Hertfordshire was hotly contested, the whigs directing 
their principal attacks upon him as the most eminent of 
the conservative candidates. A body of roughs imported 
for the occasion, by the use of brickbats, secured posses- 
sion of the ground in front of the hustings, and by their 
yells and execrations prevented anything said by the 
senior candidates from being heard. When Bulwer ad- 



56 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWBR 

vanced to the front they redoubled their fury. Below 
the hustings an enclosure had been constructed for the 
reporters. Suddenly Bulwer leaped down, alighting 
upon this platform. A moment's silence followed. Tak- 
ing advantage of it, he entered into conversation with 
the noisiest of the roughs, shook hands with him, 
drew him into an argument, and glided into an hour's 
speech which was listened to respectfully and cordially 
cheered. 

In geomancy he accomplished remarkable forecasts. 
The autobiography of Augustus Hare details one. In 
Drummond Wolff's Rambling RecoUectio'ns another is 
given. The Life by the Earl of Lj'tton records the in- 
terpretation of a figure concerning Disraeli, and John 
Morley in his biography of Gladstone remarks about a 
geomantic deduction he had examined, that "the stars 
must have known their business. ' ' 

A dry humor often vented in playful irony, and gen- 
erally accepted literally by his hearers, an extreme 
economy in small expenses combined with great liberality 
in large matters (the characteristic of all rulers who 
have made their states prosperous), disregard for the 
current fashion in dress, and a serious respect for divina- 
tion, astrology, and other things usually scorned as 
superstitions, were surface oddities of the man. Deeper 
characteristics were intense patriotism, great tenderness, 
reverence for his mother and lasting regard for all that 
she had loved, and readiness to counsel or aid in any 
project which appealed to his sympathy. 

Envious mediocrities continued to decry the man 



BULWER 57 

whose greatness they were incompetent to gauge, but 
from other sources honors flowed in upon him. He 
received the degree of D. C. L. from Oxford University 
in 1853, was chosen Lord Rector of Edinburgh Uni- 
versity in 1854, and Lord Rtetor of Glasgow University 
in 1856-57 and again in 1858. 

He became Secretary for the Colonies in 1858-59, dur- 
ing Lord Derby's second premiership, and adminis- 
tered the affairs of his office in a manner which won the 
commendation of the editor of The Times, usually an 
unfriendly critic. But the absence of elevated views, 
the general preference of small successes and indiffer- 
ence to great issues in policy, and a truckling spirit in 
the majority of those prominent in both political parties, 
made the position of cabinet minister uncongenial to 
him. His scrupulous attention to its duties greatly over- 
taxed his strength, and necessitated a less active partic- 
ipation in legislative affairs, and on the defeat of the 
Derby administration, he had recourse to further and 
more extended travels. 

His son was a poet of unusual promise, and longed 
to follow his father's example and become a man of 
letters. Bulwer, aware of the meagre honors, slender 
rewards, and equivocal appreciation grudgingly accord- 
ed to literary ability, planned a different career for him, 
made his education a preparation for diplomacy, and 
by wise management secured the surrender of his son's 
cherished desire, and the adoption of a calling not great- 
ly liked, but more worthy and dignified ; and so tactful 
was the father that the offer of a position under Sir 



58 PROSE ROMANCES 'OF BULWER 

Henry Bulwer came as a surprise to Robert Lytton, and 
its acceptance was consented to with seeming reluctance 
by Bulwer. 

By this time pain, worry, sorrow, and the wear which 
emotion causes in writers who feel, had changed the 
man more than mere years and excessive labor would 
account for. His "glitteringly golden" hair had be- 
come iron grey, deep lines had been ploughed in his 
face, his shoulders were bent, the former restlessness 
had been succeeded by apparent languor. He whose 
energy had once been so buoyant seemed listless and 
broken, and abusive attacks which formerly roused his 
anger were now regarded with indifference. His inter- 
est in politics and social movements was undiminished, 
and his literary industry continued unabated, although 
the ten years following 1861 have not a single romance 
to their credit. The wise and thoughtful essays called 
Caxtoniana; the rhymed comedy Walpole; a translation 
of Horace ; and 2'he Lost Tales of Miletus were the pro- 
ducts of these years. 

In 1866 he was elevated to the peerage, and gazetted 
Baron Lytton of Knebworth, but he never spoke in the 
Upper Chamber. Illness or untoward circumstances 
interfered on each occasion when he intended to ad- 
dress the lords. 

For the remainder of his life, he was an onlooker 
rather than an agent in events; and his art afforded 
him a solacing satisfaction denied to his survey of actu- 
alities. Foreseeing the imminent domination of an im- 
perfectly educated and untrained democracy; witness- 



BULWER 59 

ing the ferment of partially considered "new ideas" 
concerning government and social organization; recog- 
nising the absence of large views in statesmen, and the 
disiproportionate esteem vouchsafed to wealth by all 
classes; he regarded with dismay the future of his na- 
tive land, and the despoudencj^ mth which the prospect 
filed him colors the last group of his writings. 

The Coining Race was published anonymously in 1871, 
and the erroneous ascription of its authorship to other 
writers gave him much amusement. In that work refer- 
ence was made to the maladj^ which physicians had 
warned him might suddenly prove fatal. The Parisians 
followed in monthly installments in Blackwood's Maga- 
zine, and a new fame had been achieved, without any- 
one discerning the personality of the writer. He was 
living at Torquay, his intellectual vigor unimpaired and 
his ability to interest readers re-attested, — busy with 
Kenelm ChilUngly as Avell as The Parisians, engaged 
also upon Pausanias, and putting the finishing touches 
on a play. His son and daughter-in-law, after a two- 
months' visit, had just left for London, when what 
proved to be the final seizure of his old ailment attacked 
him, and put an end to his varied activities. He wrote 
putting off an engagement with a friend, saying he was 
suffering more pain than he had ever endured in his 
life. His son was summoned, and arrived in time to 
witness the peaceful ending of his father's life. Soon 
all was over. Bulwer died January 18, 1873, and was 
buried in Westminster Abbey. John Foreter wrote of 
him, ' ' Never in the course of our lifelong intimacy have 



60 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

I found him other than the very highest and noblest and 
truest under every test and trial. ' ' 

The stone which marks his grave bears the following 
inscription : 

EDWARD GEORaE EARLE LYTTON BULWER LYTTON 

Born 25. May 1803 — Died 18. January 1873 

1831-1841 Member of Parliament for St. Ives and for Lincoln 

1838 Baronet of the United Kingdom 

1852-1866 Knight of the Shire for the County of Hertford 

1858 One of Her Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State 

Kjiight Grand Cross of St. Michael and St. George 

1866 Baron Lytton of Kiebworth 

Laborious and distinguished in all fields of intellectual activity 

Indefatigable and Ardent in the cultivation and love of Letters 

His genius as an Author was displayed in the most varied forms 

Which have connected indissolubly 

With every department of the Literature of his time 

The name of Edwaed Bulwek Lytton 



BULWER'S ROMANCES 

THE experiences and reflections of one whose fac- 
ulties and powers were developed and strength- 
ened by a life divided between varied action and 
comprehensive study are embodied in Bulwer's ro- 
mances, which in their sequential succession mirror the 
circumstances and stages of their author's career; grow- 
ing, widening, and increasing in importance, wisdom, 
and purpose, with his enlarged opportunities and ad- 
vancement. All his works, in addition to their struc- 
tural and artistic qualities, have a definite applicability 
to conditions and ideas prevalent at the time of their 
production. Each sought to draw some lesson from the 
past, to effect some beneficial social amendment, or to 
elevate the character of his countrymen, and thus aug- 
ment the honor and influence of his native land. Though 
he wrote of other countries, it was always of England 
that he thought, and the permanent growth in intelli- 
gence and usefulness of his race rather than the advan- 
tage of any one class was the constant object of his la- 
bors. 

His position, education, and the circumstances of his 
life were unusually advantageous. Born a member of 
an old and well-to-do family, associating from childhood 
with the high and eminent, an extensive traveller, a sys- 
tematic reader, master of the Latin, CTreek. French, Ger- 



62 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

man, and Italian languages, deeply informed concerning 
the literatures of other lands and familiar with that of 
his own, his equipment for authorship was enlarged by 
active participation in civic affairs, and thereby he ac- 
quired that appositeness which is usually lacking in 
those who are closet students only. With continental 
cities and peoples he was intimately acquainted, and 
every department of human knowledge except the rig- 
orously scientific interested him. He was profoundly 
versed in art, learned in philosophy, and not a disciple 
of any one system ; independent in his judgment, shrewd 
in criticism, acute in observation ; and all his knowledge 
was applied to the study of man and his destiny. 

In him a mind naturally keen, penetrating, and eager 
was so admirably cultivated that where he reasons he is 
logical and illuminating, and in imagining remains ex- 
quisitely sane. Even when dealing with things remote 
from human experience, he is never lost in cloudland. 
His purpose is always clear, his mastery of his materials 
always evident. 

Two qualities rarely combined in one individual were 
united in him: clear-seeing, the ability to perceive pol- 
icies immediately advantageous ; and far-sightedness, the 
power to discern the ultimate results of new departures 
and movements and innovations. 

He was an observer, investigator, and thinker who 
utilized his every experience; a student who deemed 
every effort of other minds to extend the bounds of the 
known, worthy of his serious attention; an active par- 
ticipator in business affairs and statesmanship ; a writer 
who never trafficked on his name nor sought to detract 



BULWER'S ROMANCES 63 

from the reputation of others, finding more satisfaction 
in praising than in finding fault, and regarding good- 
ness as of more merit than ability; an achiever of mar- 
vellous successes, who endured 

' ' The long sadness of a much wronged life, 
The sneer of satire, and the gibe of fools, 
The broken hearthgods, and the perjured wife" 

without repining, or any lessening of his geniality, kind- 
liness, and sympathy. 

A wide range of subjects, a noble aiTay of characters, 
varied methods of presentation, and a style matchless 
for its combination of dignity, ease, and clearness, are 
the means by which extensive erudition, vast knowledge 
of the world, incisive penetration into motives and de- 
signs, reasoned consideration of policies, projects, and 
speculations, practical acquaintance with humanity's 
strengths and weaknesses, and original suggestions, ob- 
servations, and comments are presented to his readers. 

His career was a gradual advance to higher dignities 
and honors, and his romances fall naturally into five 
groups correspondent with important stages in his prog- 
ress. 

In the first period he was avowedly an experimenter, 
intent upon learning the capabilities and limitations of 
the romance form, acquiring a knowledge of methods 
and the use of materials, and gaining facility in the art 
of composition. Falkland, Pelham, The Disowned, Dev- 
ereux, and Paul Clifford belong to this period. 

The works of the second group express the views and 
record the investigations of one who was as much a pub- 



64 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

lieist as an author. With his election to the House of 
Commons the parliamentarian was joined to the writer 
and shared in his interests, experiences, and aspirations. 
Oodolphin, Eugene Aram, The Pilgrims of the Rhine, 
The Last Days of Pompeii, Bienzi, Leila, and Malirwv- 
ers, constitute this group. 

The third period coincides with the years during 
which he was absent from parliament, and followed his 
experiments in playwriting. His undivided attention 
being given to art, this is the group of his mightiest 
works. It includes Night and Morning, Zanoni, The 
LorSt of the Barons, Lucretia, Harold, and Pausanias. 

With his election as member for Hertfordshire the 
fourth period begins. The author and legislator are 
merged, and the works have an intimate bearing on cur- 
rent movements and social conditions. The Caxtons, 
My Novel, and What Will He Do With It? form this 
group. 

The fifth period followed his retirement from official 
life, when, no longer a participator in events, he records 
his views of present tendencies, and looking into the 
future describes the potentialities of current theories 
and new ideas. A Strange Story, The Coming Race, 
Kenelm Chillingly, and The Parisians are the products 
of this period. 



FALKLAND 

THIS is a study in sentiment, and belongs to the 
same class as Goethe's Werther and Fronde's 
Nemesis of Faith. It records and subjects to an- 
alysis an infatuation which honor, good resolutions, and 
prudent counsels are insufficient to dissolve; shows that 
when passion is permitted to overmaster duty and im- 
pel to the disregard of social conventions, retributive 
calamity results; and illustrates the fact by the fates of 
the sinning characters. 

Part of the story is narrated, much is told in letters 
and excerpts from diaries. Its lessons are that virtuous 
principles are more desirable than uncertain impulses, 
and that good hearts, unguided by regulated minds, will 
not preserve their possessors from error and punishment. 

Falkland was published anonymously by Colburn in 
1828. Its author never admitted it into any of the col- 
lected editions of his works, because he condemned its 
over-somber coloring of life and its indulgence in a vein 
of sentiment, common enough, but ''neither new in its 
expression nor time in its philosophy." He wrote of 
Falkland in 1837, as 'Hhe crude and passionate utter- 
ance of a mere boy, which I sincerely regret and would 
willingly retract." 

But the work displays power, feeling, and insight, and 
is interesting not only as a first work, but because it 



66 PROSE ROIVIANCES OF BULWER 

shows how observation and experience were utilized by a 
very young writer, whose acquaintance with Lady Caro- 
line Lamb suggested the characters and incidents. And 
it marks a stage in the artistic development of its author, 
for through it his critical perception was advanced be- 
yond what had hitherto been the standard of fictionists, 
and he saw that the moral intent of a work was not the 
only consideration, for in the conduct of a story such de- 
pictions as may by any possibility injuriously affect a 
reader must be avoided. Otherwise incidental descrip- 
tions may nullify the general purpose, as in Fielding's 
Tom Jones certain portions have a harmful potentiality, 
notwithstanding the unquestionable ethical intent of the 
whole work. 



T 



PELHAM 

1 HE education and after-adventures of one of gen- 
tle birth, reared and trained as was customary with 
his class, is narrated in this work. Pelham is an 
only son, with an inherited position and fortune. His 
father is easy going and improvident, his mother shrewd, 
widely acquainted, and worldly wise. Her letters to her 
son abound in admonitions concerning his deportment 
and the steps she deems essential to his social success, 
which is the great object of her ambition. His appear- 
ance and conduct being in accordance with her injunc- 
tions and wdshes, the impression her son creates is that of 
a foppish man of fashion. But though conforming in his 
demeanor to the desires of Lady Frances, Pelham is less 
selfish and restricted in his sympathies than his mother's 
teachings were intended to make him. He obeys her, 
but not from the motives she inculcates. Thus his 
friendship with Glanville is the result of sincere admira- 
tion, and it is only an added satisfaction that their in- 
timacy is approved by her; and his affection for his 
uncle, who first interested him in the acquisition of 
knowledge, remains undiminished despite the personal 
disappointment and the material change in prospects 
consequent upon the marriage of that kindly old kins- 
man. 

The characteristics of the work are brilliancy, knowl- 



68 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

edge of the world, and new observations gathered from 
experiences with many men in various scenes. The fol- 
lies and negligences of the class to which its hero be- 
longs, such as the perfunctory home training, the mean 
considerations which determine the choice of schools, the 
unsatisfactory character of the education acquired, the 
pains and heartaches endured in the strife for social 
position, the trivialities of conversation, and the undue 
importance attached to little things, have their lessons 
compacted into aphorisms or exposed by examples and 
made more eifective by ridicule which generally sparkles 
but sometimes stings, and which does not spare even the 
hero. 

Pelham is portrayed as one whose real ability, energy, 
and acquirements are less obvious than his affected de- 
votion to fashion and effeminate avoidance of exertion. 
The coxcomb masks the man. Determined to be more 
than one of the crowd, in whatever circumstances he 
finds himself he contrives to win admiration. Thrown 
among the frivolous and fashionable, he shares their 
follies while laughing at them; and faultless taste in 
dress and readiness in conversation are with him more 
than means to an end. Though he deliberately assumes 
the demeanor of an exquisite and acts the part with 
such thoroughness that to the ordinary and superficial 
he appears an effeminate fop, he is careful that the ap- 
parent shall be merely a part of the man, and that the 
reality shall be a cultivated and experienced gentleman. 
Therefore the hours presumably the most idle are de- 
voted to study and the acquirement of skill in physical 
accomplishments, and thus he is equal to the occasion 



PELHAM 69> 

when readiness and courage are required. Poetry has 
little charm for him, sentiment none. He is always 
practical, and shrewd as well as observant. He never 
gives confidences. He notes and avoids committing the 
blunders made by able gmd older men, and prepares 
carefully for whatever duty he undertakes. Accepting 
the forms and conventions of society as settled institu- 
tions, he conforms to them, the while he fits himself for 
other circles by developing every quality he is conscious 
of possessing, and therefore those who took for granted 
that only a vacuous mind and nerveless arm were the 
accompaniments of the listless exquisite experience many 
surprises. He is welcomed in social circles, his election 
canvass is successful, his political mission is satisfactorily 
discharged, and it is only when a larger ambition is born 
in him that a disappointment is encountered; and this 
disappointment is scarcely a disadvantage, for a prac- 
tical experience of the insincerity of a professional pol- 
itician is a valuable lesson most useful when early 
learned. 

Pelham proves by his conduct that one may frequent 
fashionable circles and mingle with those of the fine 
world, and yet be something better, wiser, and nobler 
than a mere man of fashion ; that the well-to-do are not 
of necessity restricted to lives of idleness, shows, and com- 
monplace; that making the most of one's physical self 
may be advantageously supplemented by the cultivation 
of mental capacities ; that careful study of matters, men, 
and books, useful activity and a cheerful disposition, 
are the healthy and fitting complements to natural and 
social advantages ; and that these enable their cultivator, 



70 PROSE ROIMANCES OF BULWER 

with greater ease and thoroughness, to be a true friend, 
a useful citizen, and a good man. 

That the obstacles to such a consummation are neither 
few nor slight is not concealed. The lack of parental 
interest in graver accomplishments than such as secure 
immediate effect or social prestige, the omissions of 
teachers who too often leave manhood unprovided with 
the taste for and the disposition toward many of the 
most important pursuits of the cultivated, the tempta- 
tion to idleness, extravagances, and dissipation which 
surround the well-born young, are all displayed. But 
the added advantages in resources from ennui and in- 
creased power to judge and decide rightfully, to deal 
with opposition and to manage men, as well as the 
widened scope afforded by knowledge mastered, are also 
illustrated in the satisfaction, unaccompanied by re- 
pinings or self-blame, with which Pelham meets disap- 
pointment when his hopes are overthrown, and the con- 
fidence with which he renews his efforts to win an open- 
ing for the vocation he has chosen. 

The object of Pelham 's ambition is not achieved. He 
aspires to a career in parliament. The honor comes 
within his reach, but he declines to make the necessary 
surrender of principle even in pretense, and the occasion 
passes. He preserves his self respect but loses the de- 
sired dignity. It is curious how in thus acting Pelham 
fares precisely as do nearly all the important characters 
in the long list of Bulwer's works. Bach of his heroes 
has a definite creed and purpose to the realization of 
which he devotes himself, but the ^ashed-for end is not 
attained. Thwarted and frustrated, each is disappoint- 



PELHAM 71 

ed, but the apparent failure is neither inglorious nor hu- 
miliating. Nay, it generally commands more respect 
and admiration than mere success would receive. 

Written while the impressions of things seen and re- 
membered were vivid, Pelham is bright and gay, but the 
exaggeration necessitated bj^ the aim to supplant "By- 
ronism" by something more manly has injuriously af- 
fected the portrayal of Glanviile. 

The union of v/ide culture and useful activity with 
the courteous deportment, courage, and honor always 
characteristic of the well-born, has become general since 
the creation of Pelham, and the invariable use of black 
for gentlemen's evening wear dates from the publication 
of this work, the first edition of which appeared anony- 
mously in 1828. Slight changes were made in the sec- 
ond edition of the same year, which contained a preface. 
The edition of 1840 had a second preface, and a third 
was added in 1848. These are all omitted in the later 
issues of the work. 



THE DISOWNED 

PELHAM contained the results of observations re- 
corded while the impressions were fresh, and shows 
no trace of the influence of contemporary writers. 
The Disowned has many characteristics of the fictions 
current at the time of its production, and especially shows 
the influence of Godwin in the patient enquiry into mo- 
tives and the tendency to disquisition. It has two plots, 
intentionally conducted apart until the catastrophe unites 
them, and its characters exhibit the effects on conduct 
of the undue development of certain qualities, which be- 
come harmful when cultivated to excess. Talbot, Boro- 
daile, Warner, Crauford, Mordaunt, and Wolf are dom- 
inated rather than influenced by their respective charac- 
teristics of vanity, pride, ambition, selfishness, philan- 
thropy, and zeal, which are the shaping forces of their 
careers, and from his observation of the results, the value 
of moderation is learned by the high-spirited Clarence 
who, disowned by his father, leaves home and starts out 
to make his own way in the world, relinquishing even his 
name. His fortunes occupy the larger part of the work. 
The reverses and vicissitudes of Algernon Mordaunt 
are the theme of a second plot, less extensive but more 
poignant than the story of Clarence. His history is the 
exposition of a theory deliberately cherished as the guid- 
ing principle of his life, which regards ignorance as 



THE DISOWNED 73 

identical with vice, knowledge necessarily the way to 
virtue, and virtue itself as so sovereign a condition that, 
dispensing with all inducements, it is its own sufficient 
reward. 

Mordaunt's creed was adopted by him after deep en- 
quiry. To understand what is good and what is evil he 
subjected to scrutiny the writings of moralists and phil- 
osophers, and found that though they dispute they grow 
virtuous. Enquiring further into the lives of men, he 
discovered that while those who cultivated a talent were 
often erring and sometimes criminal, those who culti- 
vated a mind were rarely either. He concluded that 
there must therefore be something excellent in knowl- 
edge. 

Pursuing his investigations into the nature of virtue, 
he found that it is not religion, for bigotry and cruelty 
have often made that powerful for evil, and a mere be- 
lief in a divine Being, even with sincerity and zeal add- 
ed, does not ensure goodness; for while believing and 
adoring, many misunderstand and err. But fuller 
knowledge always lessens the liability to perversions of 
this kind, which are closely allied to ignorance; and it 
follows that knowledge is the antidote and affords the 
light by which even religion should be investigated. For 
as labor is the salutary road to all that is beneficial, even 
the treasures which religion holds can only be brought 
to light by exercise in the acquisition of knowledge and 
the training of the perceptive powers. 

A survey of our faults, our errors, our vices, resolves 
each into a result of ignorance. Men abuse talents and 
riches and power either from ignorance of their real use 



74 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

or because they are misled into imagining the abuse more 
conducive to their happiness. Men act in accordance 
with what they conceive to be their interests, but be- 
cause of their imperfect knowledge they often err and 
consequently suffer. Mistakenly also, men revert to 
selfishness, the principle of barbarism under which force 
is law, and from which civilization is an everlengthening 
ascent. But were knowledge acquired and applied, 
nobler ideas would supplant these mean ones. It would 
be realized that the happiness and welfare of the one is 
dependent upon the well-being of all. More knowledge 
would cause better actions, and men would advance in 
happiness as well as in culture. For if ignorance is the 
spring and source of evil and misery, it necessarily fol- 
lows that if we were consummate in knowledge we would 
be perfect in virtue. 

The conflict of character against circumstances has a 
very impressive illustration in the trials to which Mor- 
daunt is subjected. Though his feelings are acute and 
his affection a devotion, neither misfortune nor suffering 
can shake his faith in the all-sufficiency of virtue. He 
endures privation and affliction, yet withstands tempta- 
tion, and after his restoration to affluence the same creed 
animates his life and actions. But it is perilous to es- 
say the depiction of a character in whom virtue is con- 
stant although youth and its passions have not been out- 
lived, for physical wants are more potent than intellec- 
tual concepts ; and only in the aged do we recognize the 
ability to act in rigid accordance with a mental belief. 

The character of Mordaunt was a favorite with its au- 
thor, and of this romance he said in 1835 : 



THE DISOWNED 75 

" If I were asked which of my writings pleased me the 
most in its moral, — served the best to inspire the 
younger reader with a guiding principle, was the one 
best calculated to fit us for the world by raising us above 
its trials, and the one by which I would most desire my 
own heart and my OAvn faith to be judged, — I would 
answer The Disowned.^' 

Characters, incidents, and situations in The Disowned 
are all by the intent of their author other than such as 
are met with in actual life. They are possible but not 
ordinary, creations, not copies; and therefore the work 
is at once removed from the class with which it is usual- 
ly confounded, that of novels which transcribe from the 
actual. 

Every effort to exalt individual or social life needs 
for its purpose a high example of actions indicating de- 
sirable conduct and resulting in calm satisfaction. The 
tendency to limit endeavor to the merely being as good 
as others, is strong in all; and nobler standards are 
necessary to counteract the downward trend which is a 
consequence of complacent contentment with an easy 
achievement. The poet provides these higher types. He 
sees more than others, and reveals what but for him 
might never have been perceived. His conceptions of 
noble behavior, great forbearance, and worthj'^ aspira- 
tions made manifest in the characters he creates, stimu- 
late to imitation of the virtues they display. Great 
characters are to literature what Christ is to Christian- 
ity; and the preference of transcriptions of what is, 
over the poetical intuition into what should be, is an error 
as mischievous as that committed by ministers of the gos- 



76 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

pel who expatiate upon dogma and ceremony rather than 
upon the humility, gentleness, sympathy, and unselfish- 
ness of the Great Exemplar. 

llie Disowned is the production of a poet, not of a 
journalist. Nevertheless none of the vagueness usual in 
the creations of allegory attaches to the personages, each 
of whom is convincingly human and impressive. Com- 
pared with later works by Bulwer, it shows an over elab- 
oration of minor incidents and characters, an exuberance 
of axiomatic reflection, and an excess of disquisition. 

The first edition of The Disowned appeared anony- 
mously in 1828, and a second edition with a preface in 
the same year. Bach of these contained an introduction 
wherein Mr. Pelham was interviewed by the author. In 
1835 this introduction was deleted, and a new preface 
and an essay on prose fiction were added. The edition 
of 1840 dispensed with all this prefatory matter and 
omitted many lengthy passages hitherto contained in the 
volumes, and the edition of 1852 differs from its prede- 
cessor only in its one short preface. 



DEVEREUX 

DEVEREUX is an experiment having little like- 
ness to productions of its day, and none to others 
of Bulwer's works. It uses history incidentally 
but makes no attempt at elucidating the large movements 
of the time. It concerns itself with the development of 
the mind of a man of affairs, who, seeking in action relief 
from torturing perplexities and grief, rises to high posi- 
tion and honor, but, sated with successes which bring no 
satisfaction, abandons his career and in loneliness and 
solitude seeks the solution of old mysteries and the con- 
firmation of weakened hopes. 

It is an autobiography that is submitted to us. The 
style in which it is written bears no resemblance to that 
of the writers of his own day, for circumstances made 
Devereux an exile for many years, and therefore he never 
acquired the mannerisms characteristic of Addison and 
Steele. We are made to feel that after his brief wedded 
life its writer is always alone, and that the memory 
of the tragedy which reft his days of their sunshine 
is tenaciously nursed though never referred to. Un- 
mirthfully he moves through many scenes, participates 
in events and meets important persons who receive such 
mention and description as would naturally be accorded 
them by a shrewd observer, and thus curious details and 
singular but accurate particulars concerning the gi'eat of 



78 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

that day, some of whom have shrunk from reputations 
into mere names, add interest to the work. 

Morton Devereux is revealed as possessing strong will, 
boundless energy, and warm affection. His childhood 
had been embittered by his parents' preference for his 
brothers, his boyhood was marred by fraternal dissen- 
sions fomented by his tutor for ulterior purposes, and he 
entered the social world prematurely, without wise guid- 
ance, or any curb on conduct or extravagance. 

Growing weary of the insipidity and purposelessness of 
his A¥ay of life, he concentrates all his affection upon one 
being and fancies happiness and contentment assured, 
but this brief elysian episode has a tragic ending and 
misfortunes accumulate, and as a distraction from griefs 
and disappointments an active career is sought and fol- 
lowed through turbulent years which bring renown and 
advancement but not satisfaction. In the comparative 
calm which succeeds a period of constant activity, feel- 
ings hitherto suppressed reassert themselves, religious 
beliefs passively accepted but never examined are un- 
settled, and doubts arise to harass, and the man who 
though gaining much that others prize has missed all that 
he himself desired and whose affections have no object 
among the living, becomes appalled at the thought that 
his hope of rejoining his lost wife beyond the grave may 
be vain and idle, that the creed which limits existence to 
this life only, may be correct. The resulting melancholy 
and depression cause him to abandon the career in which 
he has won distinction and to undertake the task of re- 
solving his doubts by an investigation of the works treat- 
ing of life and its duration. In course of time he con- 



DEVEREUX 79 

vinces himself that immortality is a fact, and his interest 
in affairs revives. 

The arguments which satisfied this anxious doubter are 
not made known to us, for on a matter where reasoning 
is ineffectual and faith alone is of use, that which con- 
evinces one may be utterly unsatisfactory to another. 
Devereux wa« content to know that the dead do not die 
forever, he sought nothing further; vie^^^ng everything 
as a practical man of the world he continued his plans 
for vengeance against his scheming enemy and having 
compassed that duty his only remaining objects were the 
restoration of his ancestral home and the composition of 
his memoirs. 

Devereux lived when Anne reigned and Marlbor- 
ough flourished, when the throne of France was yet filled 
by the Grand Mouarque, and that of Russia by Peter the 
Great, and though for many years engaged in state af- 
fairs, on none of these are any particulars recorded here, 
^3nly such incidents as pertain to his individual and do- 
mestic history are related. The sentiments and reflec- 
tions are in consonance with the experiences, wise, acute, 
and practical. 

The plot depends for its main interest upon the con- 
tinued misconception of the chai-acter of a brother. 

PeUmm suggests the desirability of knowledge as an 
addition to youth's equipment for active participation in 
life's business. The Disowned shows knowledge as the 
path by which man attains to virtue and contentment. 
Devereux displays knowledge as the resolver of doubts, 
supporter of hopes, and extender of views. As a com- 
position this work is a great advance over its prede- 






M^' 



Y 



80 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

cessors, but the characters do not innate to emulation. 
They interest greatly and are admirably managed. 
Montreuil, whose resolute pertinacity of purpose is 
only discerned through the effects he accomplishes by 
his controlling influence over others and who is there- 
fore depicted at second hand, is made to stand out com- 
prehensible, strong and virile to the last, and Aubrey 
is so drawn as never to arouse question or strain cre- 
dulity. Sir Miles is an exceedingly lovable old man 
but in illustrating his foible of always breaking off a 
story before its point is reached, the author indulged in 
what he afterwards condemned as an unworthy trick. 
Great care has been bestowed upon the presentation of 
Bolingbroke, who receives here a more respectful con- 
sideration than the whigs who have written about him 
have manifested, Bulwer's high estimate of his intel- 
lectual ability never abated, and appreciative references 
to him are of frequent oecurreoe in his later works. 

Devereux, by the author of Pelham, was published 
by Colburn in 1829. To the edition of 1835 a dedica- 
tory epistle to John Auldjo Esq. was prefixed and in 
1852 a prefatory note was added. 



PAUL CLIFFORD 

THIS work has the historic interest which attaches 
to an important innovation. It is the forerunner 
of that class of fiction which assails some existing 
wrong and by attracting attention thereto is instrumental 
in effecting reform, and which is generally called the ro- 
mance of purpose. Paul Clifford, termed by its author 
' ' a treatise on social wrongs, " is a forceful arraignment 
of the mismanagement of prisons, and an expose of the 
evils consequent upon a too severe criminal code ; and the 
book did much toward securing amelioration and amend- 
ment. 

Productions of this class necessaidly lose much of 
their interest when the evils attacked have passed away, 
and this work would have shared the usual fate had its 
purpose been confined to temporary wi^ongs. But it 
also deals with a deeper and sterner problem which is 
not transient but obtrudes itself in every organized so- 
ciety, viz : the flourishing of individuals who while keep- 
ing within the law nevertheless contrive by their vicious- 
ness to be more harmful than some of those who break 
the law and do not escape its vengeance. 

Circumstances do not invariably make crime, but they 
may lead if not constrain to it as in Paul Clifford 's case, 
yet in intent and effect the criminal may be a less dan- 
gerous person in a community than he who by design 
and act wars in secret against all that differentiates civ- 



82 PROSE ROIMANCES OF BULWER 

ilized life from barbarism, and not only evades the 
world's condemnation but receives its honors, as in the 
instance of William Brandon. 

In conception, execution, and the niceties of art, Paul 
Clifford is a remarkable achievement. The story is con- 
sistent and its conduct dramatic. Very skillfully are 
small matters made effective to the consummation, and 
fine judgment is evinced in the selection of a form of 
criminality no longer practicable, thereby avoiding all 
possibility of inducing imitation in incipient law-break- 
ers. A further careful regard for consistency is shown 
in dowering Paul with traits similar to those of William 
Brandon, pride, scorn of conventions, and the meeken- 
ing effect of the passion which weans him from his 
calling. 

With the exception of Lucy Brandon and her father 
the characters are all perversions. No pattern for emu- 
lation or admiration is presented, the book concerns it- 
self with persons whose careers are to be reprobated or 
regarded as warnings. 

Lucy Brandon alone is amiable. She is a retiring girl 
content to make a small circle happy until occasion de- 
mands other qualities, and then developing firrainess, con- 
stancy, and wisdom in the greatest trials to which woman 
can be subjected, unexpected affluence and subsequent 
privation; 

The strongest character is the able, unscrupulous, suc- 
cessful lawyer, William Brandon. Valuing only power 
and station, and regarding appearances as of more im- 
portance than actualities, he prospers in a world which he 
despises, but for whose forms he observes an obsequious 



PAUL CLIFFORD 83 

respect, by ministering to the vices of others. His sins 
are studied. His one admirable quality is his tender- 
ness toward his relations which wins him the affection 
of his niece. But even the reverence for his family, 
which is a virtue, becomes in him a further incentive to 
vice ; he is anxious to dispose of Lucy not with the aim 
of ensuring her happiness, but to further his own rise. 
Superstition is made subtle use of in the history of his 
successes. On his strong mind the denunciation of his 
wife has no apparent effect, but the maledictions born 
of her wrongs are prophetic and the evils she invokes all 
come to pass. And throughout, his illness and the 
courage with which he bears its tortures serve to remind 
us that it is a man whose actions we are surveying, and 
to preserve our interest to the tragic close of his evil life. 

Another devotee to self is shown in Mauleverer, the 
sybarite born to wealth and power, viewing life as a card- 
game, denying himself no personal gratification but too 
indolent to strive for anything. 

Augustus Tomlinson is an instance of perverted and 
misdirected intellect ; with him words are of more im- 
portance than deeds, he finds an equivocal sanction for 
behavior the most reprehensible in some sententious 
aphorism or approved sentiment no matter how much 
ingenuity be required to bring act and term into con- 
gruity. 

Peter MacGrawler is a composite portrait of the ed- 
itors and reviewers of the period, who criticised the 
political opinions of a writer rather than the literary 
qualities of his work, and made the offensive detraction 
of opponents the road to a minister's favor and an offi- 



84 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

cial sinecure. The class may have changed since Mae- 
Grawler's time, but for depicting him as unscrupulous, 
malignant, dishonest, and a coward, there was but too 
much justification. 

Paul Clifford emerges from the wretchedness of The 
Mug where he has received a meagre education and an 
initiation into flash life, by way of the prison to which 
he is wrongfully sent, where he receives further vicious 
teaching, and from which he makes his escape. Embit- 
tered against authority and ready to revenge himself 
upon its representatives, he joins the highwaymen, and 
soon becomes captain of the band. 

The activities of the gentlemen of the road bring them 
into the neighborhood of the home of Lucy Brandon, and 
Clifford becomes acquainted with her and her father. 
The sight of their decorous and calm existence so strong- 
ly contrasting the turmoil and hazard of his o^ti, and 
the growth of a pure affection disturb the satisfaction 
with which he has hitherto regarded his profession. He 
resolves to sever his connection with the robbers and seek 
out some calling less unworthy. 

But no evil course can be abandoned with ease, be- 
fore his determination is acted upon he is betrayed and 
apprehended. Brought to trial he finds in his judge 
the man who was chiefly instrumental in driving him 
into antagonism to law ; and that judge before sentencing 
Paul to death, learns that the prisoner is his own son. 

Paul however is not given to the hangman, because cir- 
cumstances led him into crime, yet neither brutalized 
nor corrupted him. He is permitted to work out his 
self-redemption in a foreign land. 



PAUL CLIFFORD 85 

Three phases of life are iu turn depicted in Paul 
Clifford: The squalor of the slums, the comfort of 
the unobtrusive country home, and the intrigues and dis- 
play of metropolitan circles. The first of these requires 
some comment. 

The opening chapters deal with Dame Lobkin's low 
public house and its environment and patrons, and this 
portion of the work is made the occasion for a satirical 
exhibition of the similarity in all essentials between the 
low which society scorns and the high which it emulates. 
The Mug reflects Holland House with its coteries and 
manufacture of reputations. Bachelor Bill's hop dif- 
fers only in degree from more fashionable gatherings 
and the same desire for gain is advanced as the ani- 
mating cause of the activities of political placemen and 
organized highw'aymen. The robbers are covert copies 
of certain celebrities, and a dexterous use is made of 
characteristics of these individuals and of incidents in 
their careers. Thus the king's patronage of the archi- 
tect Nash is reflected in Gentleman George's passion 
for building. The promptness, thoroughness, and brev- 
ity of speech of the Duke of Wellington are imitated 
in Fighting Attie. Lord Eldon's attachment to old 
forms and unrelaxing opposition to all change are trans- 
ferred to Old Baggs. And peculiai-ities in appearance 
or conduct in Lord Ellenborough, Sir James Scarlett, 
Sir Francis Burdett, and others, find their counterfeits 
in Long Ned, Scarlett Jim, Mobbing Francis, and the 
minor satellites of the robber galaxy. 

Discriminating characterizations of George the Fourth 
and the Duke of Wellington are appended to Paul Clif- 



86 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ford, and also a series of papers, attributed to the later 
years of Augustus Tomlinson; these combine keen ob- 
servation, close study of men, suggestive criticism, and 
knowledge of the world, and evidence a command of 
irony void of the savagerj^ which usually pertains to 
productions in that line. 

Paul Clifford was published in 1830, a second edi- 
tion appearing in the same year. These issues contain- 
ed a lengthy dedicatory epistle to Alexander Cockburn 
which is absent from all later editions. A new preface 
accompanied the publication in 1840, and yet another 
in 1848. 



ASMODEUS AT LARGE 

THIS work appeared anonymously by inst-allments 
in the New Monthly Magazine during the editor- 
ship of Bulwer, ending August, 1833. Its author 
never included it in any issue of his works, and it had no 
other publication until the Knebworth edition of 1875. 

Intended to serve a similar purpose to that of the 
Noetes of Blackwood's Magazine, it contains comments 
on contemporary happenings, observations concerning 
political measures and movements, remarks about men 
eminent in their day, and criticisms on books many of 
which were mere ephemera. The narrative varies from 
the gay and sportive to the grave and supernatural, but 
even in a slight and spontaneous work serious purpose 
is developed. To dispel the weariness which is the mal- 
ady of the idle, Satiety (the narrator) attracted by 
the promise of Excitement (Asmodeus) engages in a 
series of journeyings and adventures which range from 
the trivial to the marvelous, but have no object. The 
piquancy of these experiences only rouses a languid in- 
terest, for novelty can only temporarily dissipate ennui, 
and a more energising sensation is coveted. Passion 
(Julia) is hastily and imprudently substituted for the 
less emotional influence of excitement, but the unreason- 
able exactions of a fastidious and selfish egotist who 
expects to receive affection without deserving it causes 



88 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

misery, results in tragedy, and adds remorse to mental 
wretchedness; for Satiety, though ever longing for sym- 
pathic companionship, is fitted only for loneliness. 

The book abounds in aphoristic laconisms. Acute 
criticism, sarcastic comment, mystic and supernatural 
speculation are conjoined with a fleeting picture of the 
times and its politics ; and reflections, recollections, and 
anticipations add a personal interest. But the hurried 
conclusion necessitated by the author's retirement from 
editorship mars its symmetry, and the compression of 
the concluding chapters contrasts too strongly the de- 
sultory character of the earlier portions of the work. 



EUGENE ARAM 

IN 1759, an usher at Lynn was arrested charged with 
a murder committed at Knaresborough fourteen 
years previously. Eugene Aram, thus brought into 
painful notice, was a selftaught man of whom the An- 
nual Register of that year says : 

"After mastering all mathematics, he soon became 
enamoured of the belles-lettres, whose charms destroyed 
the heavier beauties of numbers and lines. He after- 
ward got acquainted with heraldry and botany, and 
knew the name and quality of every herb of the field. 
Being a profound Hebrew scholar, he ventured upon 
Chaldaic and Arabic. Not satisfied with this universal 
application, he began the study of Celtic." 

Those who had any knowledge of the man, whose ex- 
treme reserve never permitted intimacy, spoke of him 
as kindly and gentle in disposition, and exemplary in 
conduct. The trial aroused the interest of all England, 
and incredulity of the possibility of his guilt was gen- 
eral. The principal testimony against him was that of 
a confessed accomplice. Aram conducted his own de- 
fense. He was found guilty, sentenced to death, and 
after unsuccessfully attempting selfslaughter, was ex- 
ecuted, and hung in chains in Knaresborough forest. 

Bulwer became interested in the fate of this singular 
man, who had been a tutor in his grandfather's house 



90 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

at Heydon, and the extraordinary phenomenon of a sol- 
itary crime utterly at variance with the general life and 
seemingly void of influence upon the disposition of its 
perpetrator, combined with the astonishing attainments 
of the unaided scholar, furnished him with a fascinating 
problem. Gathering all the available information about 
the man and his habits, the surviving gossip and opin- 
ions of those who had met or heard of him, and the 
records of the trial, and carefully considering the whole, 
Bulwer's conclusion was that Aram, keenly desirous of 
means to increase his knowledge, and hampered by his 
dire poverty, first envied the misused wealth of another 
and sophistically persuaded himself that to appropriate 
some of that wealth and apply it to nobler uses would 
be beneficial rather than wrong ; then attempted robbery, 
which the resistance of his victim converted into murder. 
Eugene Aram was written in confonnity with this 
view. The personal traits are those of the real man, 
and there is no ecsaggeration in the account of his at- 
tainments. But instead of the actual details of his 
occupations and actions the Lesters are created, and 
an artistic condensation and elevation of the interest 
and situations are obtained, as well as a more impressive 
and comprehensive catastrophe, and an intenser poign- 
ancy in the punishment of the criminal, who in addi- 
tion to remorse, is constrained to resort to mean con- 
cealments, evasions, and deceptions exceedingly humiH- 
ating to his pride. No excuses for his crime are ad- 
duced or permitted to influence sympathy in his behalf. 
Only the results of the deed — the destroyed ambitions, 
the attainments rendered fruitless, the enforced lone- 



EUGENE ARAM 91 

liness of one who might have become influential and 
renowned — and the ruin which overtakes him when he 
seeks to rejoin the social life his act has forever barred 
him from. These are allowed to arouse pity, but not 
to palliate his offence. 

He has no animal friends. Culture has produced in 
him an intellectual pride, which usurps the place of 
moral principle. His courage is founded on scorn, his 
charity on disdain, and his creed on Fatalism. He rea- 
sons away the necessity of solitariness, becomes inti- 
mate with his kind, and yields to love. When all seems 
most propitious, detection blasts his prospects, and in- 
volves in his doom all those most dear to him. 

The work is a village tragedy in subject, conduct, and 
structure. It treats of a known event, has few char- 
acters, occupies a limited period of time, and exciting 
alternate pity and terror, progresses with increasing 
rapidity toward a foreknown culmination. Its domes- 
tic interest is supplied by Madeline Lester, her home 
and relations. It is a subtlety in the art of the book, 
that she is motherless. Stately, beautiful, fanciful, and 
enthusiastic, she diffuses happiness around her, until 
interest in Aram beguiles her into love and peril. Her 
constancy, devotion, and unswerving faith in her lover 
never diminish, but her strength fails and she dies be- 
fore Aram. 

Walter Lester, supplanted in his cousin's affections, 
seeks distraction in travel, attended by an old soldier 
who has condensed a varied experience of life into world- 
ly rules of conduct; who regards successful knavery 
with admiration, and unselfish acts with scornful pity. 



92 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Their journeyings are compelled, as if by destiny, to 
the various scenes connected with his father's history, 
and to the ultimate discovery of his murder by Aram. 
Thus the student's first step from isolation starts the 
weaving of the web which enmeshes and destroys him. 

This was the author's first careful study of a man. 
Hitherto his works had their foundation in intimate 
observation of and deductions from the conditions, in- 
stitutions, and effects of the social and political ar- 
rangements of the English people, and these had led him 
to recognise particularly the importance of .circum- 
stances in the warping and corrupting of character. 

Here he had the problem of one whose poverty would 
ordinarily have proved an insuperable bar to all mental 
effort, patiently and solitarily developing a mind of an 
uncommon order, and mastering a wide range of knowl- 
edge, yet the whole resulting in no material achieve- 
ment, and ending in ignominy because of one serious 
transgression, of which nothing in his previous life in- 
dicated the possibility, and which was wholly without 
effect upon his character. It neither binitalized nor 
corrupted him. 

To show that great learning and attainments, together 
with conduct that conforms to the requirements of so- 
ciety, are not necessarily inconsistent with criminality 
or viciousness was a needed lesson then, and is in- 
creasingly important now since accomplishments can be 
more easily acquired, and Arams are more numerous. 

There are men who with less thoroughness cultivate 
not a mind, but a style, and who are vicious not in iso- 
lated cases, but habitually. In these the prevailing 



EUGENE ARAM 93 

eharacteristie is that same intellectual pride, subordinat- 
ing principle and expanding egotism to undue propor- 
tions. They are incipient Arams. 

To warn mankind that character is of greater con- 
sequence than talent, and that those who neglect moral 
cultivation while improving less necessary qualities 
are in all essentials committing the error from which 
Eugene Aram's crime resulted, is to draw attention to 
a fact not the less important from the certainty of its 
being resented by those to whom it most directly applies. 
- This romance was dedicated to Walter Scott, then 
on his futile journey in search of health in Italy. The 
following letter from Rome dated October 22, 1832, and 
published in the Literary Gazette, gives Scott's impres- 
sions of the w^ork and its author: 

"When Sir Walter Scott arrived at Rome he asked 
me for a book. I enumerated the few I had got, and 
he immediately pitched upon something by the Author 
of Pelharn. I accordingly sent him Eugene Aram, which 
he returned me in a very few days, saying that since 
he left England he had not enjoyed so much amuse- 
ment. He talked a long time about Bulwer and his pro- 
ductions; and I sincerely regret not having made a 
minute of his remarks. I recollect, however, distinctly 
his saying ' Oh ! that is a man whose name always puts 
me in mind that I must look about me. ' And after ex- 
pressing his high approbation of the tale he had just 
been reading, he added, 'I can scarcely conceive a 
greater proof of talent than this, that a writer should 
take for his subject a story known well to almost every- 
one of his readors, and thnt he should be able to work 



94 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

it up in so artful a manner as to produce such intense 
interest. For this, ' he said, laughing, ' is the fault of 
the book. I read late — I could not lay it down, and 
twice it has spoiled my night's rest.' " 

The first edition of Eugene Aram was published in 
1831. To the issues of 1840 another preface was added, 
and a third preface accompanied the edition of 1850. 



GODOLPHIN 

WHILE engaged on Eugene Aram Bulwer also 
wrote Godolphin, the composition of the two 
works proceeding concurrently. This lighter la- 
bor has for it« subject a like theme: the frustration of 
possibilities of usefulness in an individual of great prom- 
ise. In Aram a crime blasted a career. Here the absence 
of incentive, the possession of wealth, and the temptations 
natural to the life of the well-born rich, cause abilities 
and endowments to be frittered away and wasted. 

The period illustrated is that of the passing of the 
Refonn Bill of 1831, which transferred political power 
from the higher to the middle classes. It is therefore 
a former fasliionable world which is pictured and 
shown as void of healthful ambition, moral purpose, or 
enthusiasm, and as exercising a pernicious injBuence 
over the more gifted of both sexes. 

The best parts of the work are those which depict 
that silken circle of fashion with its puerilities and en- 
nui, its graceful luxury, its polish, its heartlessness, 
its unenjoyed amusements, and its avidity for anything 
novel which promises a new sensation. And the most 
masterly character is that of Saville, the urbane, 
shrewd, and favored man of the world, who with intel- 
lect but without heart, passion without affection, and 
wealth without sympathy, finds there congenial en- 



96 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

vironment. Godless and creedless as some antique 
pagan, he avails himself of every opportunity for self- 
indulgence even to life's last hour, and dies, like the 
order he represented, selfpossessed and imperturbable, 
satisfied with his past and unconcerned about his 
future. 

Godolphin is young, gifted, and fortunate. His abili- 
ties directed to useful ends might make him a benefac- 
tor to his race, but his early entrance into the world of 
the privileged and his acquaintance with its idols wean 
him from all desire for honor or dignity. He has the 
common experiences of his class — pleasure and travel. 
Without being vicious, but because he is unambitious, 
fastidious, and procrastinating, he neither develops his 
own capacities nor accomplishes anything meritorious. 
The rejection of his hand by Constance crushes his 
vanity without spurring him to any worthy exertion ; 
inherited wealth only makes him a grandiose dilettante 
and patron of art. And he incurs the mischief of caus- 
ing injury to those who become interested in him. 
Temptation, dallied with but not resolutely resisted, 
leads to the destruction of the daughter of him whom 
he had called friend. Idle and purposeless, his grace- 
ful accomplishments and profuse use of wealth win ad- 
miration and regard in abundant measure, without the 
animosity which usually results from successful com- 
petition for fame or power. 

Like many of his class he inspires sanguine expecta- 
tions which are never realized. With ample equip- 
ments for high station, he becomes the oracle of a small 
coterie, and dawdles through life shirking its duties, 



GODOLPHIN 97 

leaving to less enervate men the nobler positions it 
should have been his ambition to fill. 

The history of Constance shows the powerlessness of 
the woman who seeks to be active and influential in the 
world. She finds that civilized life affords only a con- 
ditional opportunity for the exercise of feminine ability. 
In furtherance of a husband's ambition she may dis- 
play her genius for intrigue, but when husband and 
wife regard measures differently the wife must sacri- 
fice either her views or her happiness. Alone she can 
accomplish nothing of importance. 

Bulwer repeatedly found fault with the forms and 
customs which limited to inanities the education and in- 
fluence of Avomen. That many restrictions which for- 
merly existed have been removed, is to some extent at- 
tributable to his advocacy of greater liberality in these 
matters. 

Volktman, the devotee of astrology, whose severe 
and exhausting studies are rewarded in minor matters 
with equivocal successes, but iii the things about which 
he is most anxious only arouse indeflnite and perturb- 
ing fears, in his unworldly theories, gentleness and 
faith, is an attractive study; and his daughter, whose 
wayward impulsiveness makes her a victim of unselflsh 
affection, a sad one. Her letter written to Godolphin 
after the discovery which leaves her humiliated and 
hopeless, is a touching combination of pathos and pride. 

An incidental purpose of Godolphin was to test con- 
temporary criticism. Therefore it was published anony- 
mously. It fulfllled Bulwer 's expectation in the mat- 
ter, and gave a basis for an ever increasing contempt 



98 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

for professional book reviewals, for no one discerned 
the authorship. Some ascribed it to Godwin, others saw 
superiority over Bulwer in "the author of GodolpMn." 
One, after declaring that "his novels are all echoes of 
each other with hardly a page which might not be known 
for his, nor a favorite character which is not an exhi- 
bition of one of the phases of his exquisite self," adds 
that "the writer of Godolphin equals him in energy." 
This desire to see if the reviewers were as discern- 
ing as they professed to be caused the intentional disre- 
gard of certain rules of art, from an observance of 
which in no other instance did Bulwer swerve. The 
end of Vernon is reminiscent of Sheridan's death. 
Constance recalls the three grand dames of the day who 
were active political partisans: Lady Jersey, Lady 
Holland, and Lady Blessington ; and in the original issue 
there figured Lord Saltream, who was undoubtedly sug- 
gested by John Ward, Lord Dudley. Gamester and epi- 
curean were combined in Lord Henry de Ros, who how- 
ever lacked the discretion which is so emphatic a quality 
in Saville, and it is probable that the unproductive 
abilities of Count D'Orsay suggested the creation of 
Godolphin, tho' there is no further resemblance between 
them than the possession of fine qualities and the simi- 
larity of their surroundings. It is a sin in art to copy 
from some original peculiarities which admit of identifi- 
cation; for characters should be creations, and if tran- 
scription is all that has been accomplished the achieve- 
ment amounts to little ; while if a personage in an imagin- 
ative work is not copied, yet is so described that a like- 
ness to some known person is perceived, it stamps the 



GODOLPHIN 99 

author as commonplace both in art and imagination, be- 
cause art concerns itself with the enduring, and per- 
sonal oddities and peculiarities are of all things the most 
transient. The imagination is meagre and limited if it 
cannot rise above the actual. 

Before Bulwer added Godolphin to the list of his works 
in 1842, he expunged everything pertaining to Saltream, 
and much other matter. But an unremoved fault re- 
mains, and detracts from the value of the work. That 
is, the admission of accident as a factor of importance. 
The catastrophe in fiction should result naturally from 
the events and circumstances narrated and described, and 
have the seeming of inevitability. The manner of Godol- 
phin 's death has no necessary connection with the chain 
of events preceding it. It is an arbitrarily introduced 
incident for which little preparation is made. It as- 
sisted in accomplishing the secondary purpose of demon- 
strating the deficiencies of the critics, but this trivial 
end necessitated a permanent injury ; and the gain was 
not worth the sacrifice. 

Less powerful and artistic than Eugene Aram, the 
work depends on its faithful delineation of a phase of 
contemporary life for its interest, and on style for its at- 
traction. 

Godolphin was published anonymously in 1833, a sec- 
ond edition appearing in the same year. The prefaces to 
these issues and many pages of the narrative were de- 
leted when the work with a new preface and dedicated 
to Count D'Orsay was added to the collected edition of 
1842. 



THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE 

THE comparison of life to a river is old, and the cy- 
clonic wind-storms which ever and again visit cer- 
tain portions of the earth, wrecking, devastating, 
and working fantastic mischief, have a more discernable 
likeness to some lives than the stream which beautifies, 
nourishes, and is useful. The tiny beginnings, the in- 
crease and growth in proportion and power, the resistless 
progression toward the great deeps and the persistence of 
identity notwithstanding continuous change which char- 
acterize alike the lapsing water and the unhalting life, 
are obvious resemblances. There are other similarities. 
The river obeying the law which prescribes a straight 
line for its course is constrained into sinuous meander- 
ings because of the impediments it encountei^s, and the 
careers of those who purposefully endeavor to act in con- 
formity with a creed are made picturesque and interest- 
ing by the interferences which swerve them into chan- 
nels of less resistance; and these obstructions constitute 
the memorable features when the completed journey is 
surveyed. 

In The Pilgrims of the Rhine the scenery, legends, and 
romances of Europe's most majestic river are associated 
with the passing away of an innocent and beautiful 
maiden. 

The protracted ordeal of living wherein acts, thoughts. 



THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE 101 

and aspirations are chastened and disciplined, is crowd- 
ed mth trials and disappointments, and those deemed 
fitted for higher progression without the reiterated cor- 
rections necessary for most of the children of men are 
the objects of a benevolent preference. But the mercy 
of the Compassionate One who forbears to inflict the 
full measure of life's multitudinous sadnesses and per- 
mits His dark servant to remove the young to a world 
where hopes cannot be blighted nor prospects dimmed, 
is with difficulty discerned by the bereaved. Faith and 
philosophy are both severely tasked before apparent 
cruelty is recognized as kindness, and belief in infinite 
good produces resignation to a finite ill; for their be- 
loved ones are gone from them even if the loss in the 
transient here is a gain in the enduring there. 

This view of the most melancholy of human experi- 
ences pervades The Pilgrims of the Rhine, and preserves 
its narrative from all depressing gloom and mournful- 
ness. 

On Gertrude Vane the most insidious and deceptive of 
human maladies has set its seal. The physicians have 
ordered change of air, and to gratify her desire to visit 
Germany, her father and her betrothed accompany her 
in a journey up the Rhine. 

A fairy queen and her court affected by the devotion 
of the lovers, and desiring that the remaining days of 
the maiden may at least neighbor the fairyland which is 
left behind with youth, and wishful to be of service to 
her, make the same pilgrimage and incidentally meet 
with and are entertained by the German varieties of their 
kind. 



102 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Ideas suggested by the places visited, their historical 
associations and vicissitudes, are discussed from time to 
time, and the varying scenes and cities are described. 
It is the general and impressive features to which atten- 
tion is directed. The particulars never degenerate into 
inventories. At intervals tales are told, which attract 
Gertrude's attention from her condition by interesting 
her in the fate of others. These stories show the changes 
and disillusionings which time brings about, oppose the 
harsh and commonplace to youth 's sanguine anticipatory 
dreams, and are effective in reconciling Gertrude to the 
relinquishing of desire for experience in the troublous 
actual world. 

Each tale strips from the future some fancied glory. 
Man's love is unstable and changes with circumstances, 
affection the most fervent rarely outlasts the year, rival- 
ry estranges brothers, ambition supplants affection and 
exacts greater sacrifices. The purest love is least com- 
prehended, and dreams are far more fair than actualities. 

These stories illustrate the different phases of German 
literary activity. They are admirable specimens of the 
domestic, the philosophical, the chivalrous, the poetic, 
the daring, the weird, and the fabulous. The most sug- 
gestive and thoughtful is ' ' The Fallen Star, ' ' which deals 
with that remote past when antiquity was young. 

The incidents of the journey deepen the despondency 
of the father, whom previous calamities have schooled 
into resignation. They rouse a vain rebellion against 
fate in the lover. They soothe and encourage Gertrude 
to put aside considerations of earth, and welcome the 
nearness of heaven, whence she may watch and perhaps^ 



THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE 103 

influence those dear to her. For a time she seems to 
rally. Her companions are gladdened by the improve- 
ment in her condition, and hopes of her gradual restora- 
tion to health are indulged ; but these anticipations are 
soon dampened. Her strength fails rapidly. At Hei- 
delberg the pilgrimage ends with her burial, in a spot 
selected by herself. 

Although this work is used satisfactorily as a guide 
book, Bulwer had not seen the Rhine when he composed 
it. The first edition was accompanied by elaborate steel 
engravings which required two years for their execu- 
tion. Written in 1832, it was published in 1834. 



THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 

DURING Bulwer's first visit to Italy in 1833 he re- 
sided for some months at Naples, and made fre- 
quent visits to Pompeii. The character and hab- 
its of its former citizens as disclosed by the excavations, 
and interesting discoveries and observations made in its 
streets and houses furnished the material for this ro- 
mance. Twenty bodies were uncovered in the cellars of 
one villa, three more in the near neighborhood, and a 
skull, which is now at Knebworth, of such remarkable 
conformation as to indicate unusual power in the original 
possessor. These remains and the positions in which they 
were found suggested the figures of Arbaces, Calenus, 
Burbo, Julia, Clodius, and Diomed, and the chance re- 
mark that because of' the darkness which accompanied 
the destroying eruption the blind would have an advan- 
tage suggested the creation of Nydia. The artist evoked 
the shades of the dead of twenty centuries ago, re-ani- 
mated the several forms, and caused them to re-live their 
last days in Pompeii. 

Pompeii existed without giving occasion for reference 
or remark from its foundation by Hercules until A. D. 
63. In that year it suffered grievous injury from an 
earthquake and the restoration of its important build- 
ings had been but partially effected when in 79 an erup- 
tion of Vesuvius destroyed the town and buried it under 



THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 105 

ashes from which only a fragment of the wall of the 
larger theatre protruded. Now and again as the sixteen 
succeeding centuries lapsed, a peasant would have his 
wonder aroused by the striking of his mattock against 
some portion of the skeleton of the buried city, but not 
until 1748 was serious attention given to the excavating 
of what was soon identified as the forgotten Pompeii. 
Once begun the discoveries were so remarkable that the 
operations were extended and gradually a Roman city 
in its pristine state was disinterred and restored to light. 

The excavations in the labyrinth of ruins which are 
the existing evidence of what Pompeii was, have revealed 
enough to enable investigators to reconstruct its streets, 
its temples and its homes, to understand its social organ- 
ization, and to realize the distinctive habits, dress, and 
customs of its inhabitants. 

A seaport of thirty thousand people, its citizens were 
of many races, and Grecian and Egyptian influences 
were potent to a greater extent than in the seven hilled 
city. Its position on a rising shore of the Bay of Naples, 
girdled by the mountains, yet open to the sea breezes, 
made it an attractive summer resort for the wealthy. 

In that miniature Rome the idle and pleasure loving 
gathered, and combined luxury, learning, scepticism, and 
ostentation with grace and gaiety. Civilization was 
neighbored by barbarism, the beautiful temples were 
seats of jugglery, men fought with beasts in the arena, 
faith in the gods had vanished, and sorcery flourished. 

Because of its incorporation in the world-empire of 
Rome and its nearness to the Imperial city, Pompeii 
neither produced nor retained any great exemplars of 



106 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

patriotism, art, or thought. Therefore the romance is 
eonstmcted of the simplest materials. An urbane, cul- 
tured, careless, and joyous community is portrayed as 
animated by the passions, feelings, and desires common 
to all humanity. Love, jealousy, rivalry, intrigue, hate, 
and revenge sway the conduct of the characters, who are 
enduring varieties of human nature exhibited in an an- 
tique garb. The costumes, customs, and social forms have 
changed with time, but the elemental passions are eternal, 
varying but little in their expression, not at all in their 
strength, influence, or ejffects. 

The story opens in light-hearted joyousness, with a 
meeting of well-to-do young men with whom pleasure is 
the only pursuit. It becomes more earnest with the in- 
troduction of lone, more active with the rescue of Nydia, 
and more sinister when Arbaces appears. The serious- 
ness increases in the interviews with Apaecides and Olin- 
thus and the gaiety ends with the noonday excursion on 
the water. Gloom begins with the curse of the Saga of 
Vesuvius, deepens rapidly with the death of Apaecides,'- 
the arrest of Glaucus, and the immuring of Nydia, be- 
comes intense in the amphitheatre, and terrible when the 
eruption darkens, covers, and destroys. And at inter- 
vals the chant of the girl eager for the show, the warning 
hymn of the Nazarenes and the epicurean song of the 
revelers, significantly interrupt the action by revealing 
characteristic differences in the disposition of the popula- 
tion — the first thoughtless, careless, cruel, the second 
^austere, earnest, and denunciatory, the third resolved on 
pleasure, doubtful of its propriety, and distorting wis- 
dom into approval and advocacy. 



THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 107 

The men and women who act and suffer are such as 
are natural to the place and time, and to that phase of 
luxurious leisure to which the situation and climate of 
Pompeii conduced and allured. 

There is no introduction of superfluous antiquarian or 
archaeological details. The customs at banquets, the 
funeral ceremonies, the elaborate routine of the baths, 
and the varieties of the gladiatorial exercises are de- 
scribed, but the occasion for depicting them arises nat- 
urally in the progress of the story. Knowledge is not 
paraded. 

Incidentally also certain similarities and singular dif- 
ferences between the present inhabitants of the district 
and their predecessors are noted. The curiosity, laziness, 
and fondness for the recitations of the improvisatores is 
the same now as then, but the former appreciation of 
flowers, perfumes, and baths has been replaced by some- 
thing like aversion. 

Social conditions are depicted with all possible fair- 
ness, without any attempt to convey false impressions of 
the relative morality, well-being, or organization of their 
times and ours, or to deduce from what is the equivalent 
of a palimpsest disingenuous criticisms of the present 
order of things. Then, as now, it is shown that the lot 
of the poor was one of hardship, that priests were venal 
and religion often a cloak for wrong-doers, that office- 
holders cared more for popularity than for principles, 
and that the rich monopolized power and abused the 
forms of law, yet evaded its penalties. The very meager 
alteration for the better in the circumstances of the work- 
er is indeed the most salient lesson of the book, for the 



108 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

slow evolution of a middle class which has devoted its en- 
ergies to pulling down those above and shown no earnest 
desire to elevate those below, is the most conspicuous 
achievement of the intervening centuries. That fact 
demonstrates the unimportance of changes in the forms 
of government, and suggests the superior possibilities of 
developing virtues and qualities in the individual and 
the race, as effective aids to progress. 

As a story illustrative of a past era the work has merits 
of a very high order. It avoids artificiality, it is correct 
in details, its varied incidents are in harmony with the 
period and the characters, and succeed each other nat- 
urally. The intensity of the interest excited increases as 
the narrative approaches its catastrophe, and that awful 
event which involved in one common ruin the good, the 
villainous, the wealthy, and the miserable, and displayed 
the disregard which that force we call Nature endlessly 
manifests for our mutable distinctions, is forcefully and 
vividly described. 

Its characters, however, are of a lower intellectual 
order than those of other of its author's productions, 
and the emotions aroused are generally of a less noble 
nature than usual, being physical appeals, rather than 
mental or moral. 

In the construction of plot and the invention of inter- 
esting incidents, situations, and characters, it is an ad- 
vance on previous work, but not in the quality of the in- 
terest. The emotions addressed are such as everyone 
easily responds to. There is no demand for discernment 
or meditation. 

The most intellectual of the characters is Arbaces, who 



THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 109 

makes knowledge subservient to the practices of the sty, 
proud of his superiority of race and in learning, making 
a power of his influence, defaming all creeds, but believ- 
ing that the stars can warn, advise, and guide, constru- 
ing their signs into favoring prophecies, yet in his end 
verifying the prediction he misinterpreted, 

Glaucus the Athenian, generous, graceful, and exuber- 
ant, is plunged from the heights of assured felicity to the 
awful prospects of death in the arena, but sustains his 
natural nobility. He regards shame less as the loss of 
the good opinion of others than the forfeiture of his own, 
refuses freedom at the price of baseness, and declines to 
adopt a faith to which he is favorably disposed, because 
he would not even appear to act for a reward. 

Culture and beauty present their loveliest combination 
in the noble-minded, dignified, and calm lone. 

Olinthus is a type of the early propagators of Chris- 
tianity, and his ardor for proselytizing, his intolerance 
of other creeds, his impatience with compromise, as well 
as his scorn of danger, hardship, or death, are the neces- 
sary qualities of the founders of a creed. 

Sallust, the goodnatured voluptuary, justifies the opin- 
ion of Glaucus that he had more heart than any of his 
companions, and also his own confession of the superior 
claims of appetite to friendship, for when after an al- 
most fatal neglect he does act, it is swiftly, comprehen- 
sively, and with effect. 

The several gladiators are finely discriminated, and 
the interest aroused for them becomes poignant in the 
case of young Lydon. 

The most interesting character is Nydia, the blind 



110 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

flower girl, whose songs express the watchful tenderness 
with which she regards her wares, and her fond fancy 
that they possess something akin to human feeling. Her 
presence brightens the places she visits like the sunshine 
of her native land, and when she moves away air and 
scene appear to lose their glory and lapse into their cus- 
tomary commonplace. An orphan and an exile, blind 
and a slave, unforgetful of the legend-haunted land 
whence she was stolen, and wistfully remembering the 
mother whose gentle care she misses and pines for; 
fragile and delicate, yet beaten and humiliated by the 
pitiless taskmasters whose greed and cruelty are insati- 
able, released from their brutality by Glaucus only to 
exchange physical suffering for mental anguish; having 
the desires, feelings, and devotion of the womanhood 
into which she is just emerging, yet retaining the im- 
pulsiveness, petulance, and cunning of the girl, she 
dares much to win the affection of her deliverer, who re- 
gards her as a child and never discerns her love. She 
dares more in generous devotion, and saves him. who was 
more to her than the gods had been — a friend ; and then 
seeks refuge from hopelessness in the calm of the waters. 

The story excites and maintains interest. The charac- 
ters are apprehensible and distinctly differentiated, and 
the incidents are impressive. The attention is engaged 
without thought being stimulated and, therefore, the 
work charms all readers and is the best known of Bul- 
wer 's romances. 

The Last Days of Pompeii was composed during one 
of the attacks of intense depression to which its author 



THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 111 

was subject. In 1833 failing health necessitated rest 
and change and Bulwer was induced to visit Italy. No 
physical benefit resulted, but his fame was extended by 
this work which was published in 1835. 



EIENZI 

THE verdict of the historians who after a superfi- 
cial survey of the career and fate of a remarkable 
man had pronounced a harsh and unfavorable 
judgment on Rienzi was set aside as one result of the pro- 
duction of this romance, wherein the great Tribune was 
presented as he was in life, no faultless man, but religi- 
ous, patriotic, earnest, and more far-seeing than his con- 
temporaries, and more vigorous and generous than the 
people whose liberties he restored and would have per- 
manently established, but that they were recreant, false, 
and unfit for the responsibilities which accompany self- 
government. 

Since the publication of this vt'ork, many documents 
illustrative of the period and the man have come to light. 
These do not in a single material detail give occasion for 
any alteration in the estimate of Rienzi 's character as 
here depicted; but by affording abundant evidence that 
he was a mystical enthusiast, they confirm the accuracy 
of Bulwer's intuition in ascribing to him that phase of 
fanaticism. 

The work deals with a period during Avhich Rome was 
in dreary degradation — abandoned by the papacy, with- 
out povv^er to enforce its laws, shrunken in population, 
its former grandeur forgotten, its mighty structures and 
monuments used as quarries from which the materials 
for new buildings or repairs were obtained ; preyed upon 



RIENZI 113 

by the great barons, and so wretchedly misgoverned 
that Petrarch described it as "the abode of demons, the 
receptacle of all crimes, a hell for the living. ' ' 

From this abject condition it was suddenly transformed 
into acknowledged eminence over every other Italian 
Sitate by one man, who had neither rank nor wealth to 
command or win support. Rejecting any title save that 
of Tribune, he established a free constitution and a new 
code of law. He expelled and subdued the barons, con- 
quered the banditti, conciliated the priests, and ruled 
impartially. For seven months these amazing benefits 
continued. With the restoration of order civilization 
revived, trade expanded, and crowned heads sent hom- 
age and congratulations. But all who serve the masses 
learn that every concession secured, produces a demand 
for further benefits. The people's representative must 
continue to minister to their desire for extended power, 
or his popularity declines. This necessity caused the 
Tribune to assert the right of Rome to a voice in the 
election of the Emperor of Rome, and thereby he in- 
curred the disfavor of the church. He was commanded 
to withdraw his claim, and upon his refusal the Pope 
excommunicated Rienzi, and one hundred and fifty mer- 
cenaries leagued with the church and the barons en- 
tered the city, and barricaded a part of it. When Ri- 
enzi addressed the citizens, exhorting them to assist him 
in driving the robbers out, ' ' the sighs and groans of the 
people replied to his." They could weep, but they 
would not fight. The ban of the church produced par- 
alysis, and Rienzi abdicated and fled from the city. 
Thus the ignorant cowardice of a people made an epi- 



114 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

sode of what should have been the beginning of an era. 

"With the curse of the church over him, Rienzi for the 
next seven years was for a time a wanderer, then a 
chained prisoner in a dungeon at Avignon. 

But affairs at Rome went from bad to worse, and to 
retain his possessions it became imperative that the Pope 
should take steps to reestablish some authority there. 
No plan seemed so promising as to use Rienzi 's popular- 
ity as an aid to reconquest. So a trial was accorded the 
fallen Tribune, who was charged with two offenses : first, 
declaring Rome to be free; second, pretending that the 
Romans had a right of choice in the election of the Ro- 
man Emperor. He was acquitted and absolved, named 
Senator and appointed to accompany Cardinal Albornez, 
who, leading an armed force, was empowered ''to ex- 
terminate heresy, restore the dignity and rights of the 
church, annihilate the leagues formed against the pon- 
tifical rights, and enforce the restitution of the church 
property. ' ' 

Albornez made dexterous use of the popularity of the 
former Tribune, but kept him from Rome until Rienzi, 
perceiving the antagonism and purpose of the Cardinal, 
made arrangements to act without him, entered Rome, 
and resumed sway. 

The dungeon and chains had altered Rienzi 's appear- 
ance. Formerly slender, he had become stout, and a dis- 
ease provocative of constant thirst had fastened upon 
him. And the dignity of Senator was not so pleasing 
to the Romans as the less patrician title of Tribune. 
Therefore he had fewer friends. Nevertheless there fol- 
lowed seven weeks of energetic, beneficent, and prudent 



RIENZI 115 

rule, with none of the ostentation or brilliant extrava- 
gances which dazzled during his former period of power. 
' ' He alone carried on the affairs of Rome, for his officials 
were slothful or cold." 

To defend Rome and preserve freedom, an armed 
force was necessary. To pay the force a tax was im- 
posed, and the multitude joined with the barons, cried 
out "Perish him who made the gabelle, " murdered the 
Senator and tore his body to pieces. 

Rienzi ruled as Tribune seven months; in exile and 
prison he passed seven years. His sway as Senator last- 
ed seven weeks ; and in this romance he fills seven books, 
the other three dealing with the plague at Florence, and 
The Grand Company and its commander. 

Bulwer attributes the failure of Rienzi not to any 
error of the man, but to the faults of the people he sought 
to serve, who were a miscellaneous and mongrel mixture 
of many tribes. The tools were too poor for the arti- 
ficer's use. An unmixed race may be taught that to be 
great and free a people must trust not to individuals 
but to themselves ; that to institutions, not to men, they 
must look for enduring reforms ; that their own passions 
are despots to be subdued, their own reason should be 
the remover of abuses. 

But vain and delusive is the expectation that a de- 
based and embruited population will accept such teach- 
ings. A selfseeker more or less corrupt is the highest 
kind of ruler such a populace can appreciate; and Ri- 
enzi 's fate is but one of many warnings against giving 
to the incapable and ignoble a free government, equal 
laws, and power. 



116 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

There are three glorious women in Bienzi — the 
gentle, unselfish, and retiring Irene, the flowerlike Ade- 
line who "drooped away and glided into heaven," and 
the regal Nina, imperious and haughty to all else, but 
consoKng, inspiring, and always tender to her lord. 

A figure differing greatly from that of Rienzi, having 
elements of grandeur and largeness, and wiser through 
more selfish views, is "Walter de Montreal, minstrel-monk 
and warrior, the knightly leader of one of those roving 
companies of men-at-arms who wandered from state to 
state, selling their services and participating in per- 
petual feuds, tender yet stern; a Provencal, with the 
Troubadour's love of song and skill in singing; a war- 
rior, ambitious, determined, and ruthless ; brilliant in the 
field, but no match for the wily Italians in council ; nurs- 
ing a great project, bending all his energies to its ac- 
complishment, and recognizing in Rienzi his most for- 
midable obstacle. From a deep grief which invites to 
retirement and rest, he turns to vast plans needing con. 
stant alertness and excluding all opportunity for re- 
grets and sorrows. And the frankness which he never 
guarded makes him a victim, where he designed to be a 
benefactor. His ambitions conflict with those of the 
Senator, and betrayal leads to arrest, trial, and execu- 
tion, with the swift and foreseen doom of his conqueror 
as a consequence. 

An attractive character, and one natural to times of 
agitation, is Adrian Colonna, whose conciliatory disposi- 
tion would, with a worthy people, have forwarded and 
consolidated freedom, because of his moderation, wis- 



RIENZI 117 

dom, and position ; but with the degenerates of Rome his 
well-intentioned efforts fail, his abilities find little scope 
for useful exercise, and he becomes but an unhappy- 
spectator of failure, instead of an active participant in 
success. 

The plague broke out at Florence soon after the fall 
of the Tribune, and Adrian's search for Irene, whom 
Rienzi, on the approach of danger, had induced to leave 
Rome, brings into view the desolation of the city where 
the horror reigned, and gives occasion for the introduc- 
tion of a Decameron-like company, who retiring to an- 
other Fiesoli, passed their time in similar fashion to 
those whose days Boccaccio chronicled. 

The church of Rome presents a sorry spectacle in 
these volumes. Its every act has a sordid or selfish mo- 
tive, and though its conduct is not commented upon, the 
mere record of its dealings with Rienzi is condemnatory. 

Rienzi is finely constructed and nobly executed. 
Eloquence pervades the entire narrative. Its reflections 
are wise and its judgments discriminating. The thoughts 
and feelings of its characters are revealed as fully as 
their appearances are described, and the great figures 
afford warning as well as command admiration. The 
work evidences a masterly comprehension of the time 
and its phenomena, and of their relation to the past and 
future; and a patient study of the men prominent in 
affairs, and the circumstances which influenced their ac- 
tions. It is the earliest romance in which actual historic 
personages appear in their due prominence, and in their 
proper relation to real events. It was therefore a de- 



118 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

parture from the customary, and the author, in a now 
discarded preface, thus prepared the reader for some- 
thing different from the usual: 

"A work which takes for its subject the crimes and 
errors of a nation, which ventures, however unsuccess- 
fully, to seek the actual and the real in the highest stage 
of passion or action, can, I think, rarely adopt with ad- 
vantage the melodramatic effects produced by a vulgar 
mystery, or that stage-effect humor which, arising from 
small peculiarities of character, draws the attention of 
the reader from greatness or from crime, to a weakness 
or a folly. Nor does a fiction, dealing in such subjects, 
admit very frequently, or with minute detail, superfluous 
descriptions of costume and manners. Of costume and 
manners I have had, indeed, a less ambitious and less 
disputable motive for brevity in delineation. 

"I write of a feudal century, and I have no desire to 
write more than is necessary of feudal manners, after 
the inimitable and everlasting portraitures of Sir Walter 
Scott. I say thus much, in order to prepare the mind of 
the reader as to what he is to expect in the folloMdng 
volumes — a duty I think incumbent upon every author 
of discretion and benevolence; for, being somewhat 
warned and trained, as it were, the docile reader thus 
falls happily upon the proper scent, and does not waste 
his time in scampering over fields and running into 
hedges in a direction contrary to that which he ought to 
pursue. 

' ' Mistake not, courteous reader — imagine not that 
all this prologue is to prepare thee for a dull romance — 
imagine not that I desire to prove to thee that romances 



RIENZI 119 

should be dull. And yet I must allow my preface is 
ominous — little of costume, less of mystery, nothing of 
humor ! What is there left to interest or amuse ? Pas- 
sion, character, action, truth ! Enough of materials, if 
the poor workman can but weave them properly!" 

The work became a power in Italy, stimulating those 
engaged in the task of political regeneration and influ- 
encing the forces which became active in 1848. Besides 
aiding in recreating Italy, it had a beneficent effect on a 
great artist. Wagner records that in Bulwer Lytton's 
Eienzi he obtained an inspiration which lifted him far 
above the cares and distraction of his home life. 

Bienzi was published in 1835. 



LEILA 

THE closing scenes of the final act in the recon- 
quest of Spain from the Moors are depicted in this 
romance. The last stage of eight centuries of con- 
flict in which chivalrous honor, frank courtesy, and pro- 
digious valor distinguished alike the native Spaniard and 
the intruders from Mauritania who had established an as- 
cendency they strove vainly to maintain, was reached 
W^hen Ferdinand massed his forces around the city of the 
Alhambra. The last chapters in the history of an alien 
dynasty which ended with the surrender of Granada to 
its Christian conquerors are here recorded. The fluctua- 
tions of that memorable siege, the incidents which accom- 
panied its progress and the personages who were the prin- 
cipal agents in forwarding or resisting the ensuing tri- 
umph, are vividly described. Boadbil the vacillating, his 
stern mother, the brave unselfish Muza, the politic Fer- 
dinand, and the fanatical Torquemada are all adequately 
portrayed. 

The interest of the work centers in Almamen, the un- 
avowed Jew and master of magic. Pride in his race and 
hatred of its oppressors inflame him to the double pur- 
pose of winning liberty for his people and wreaking re- 
venge on their perfidious foes. 

There is nothing sordid or selfish in his ambition, but 
the contempt in which both Moor and Castilian hold all 
Jews compels him to hide his connection with the de- 



LEILA 121 

spised race and allow himself to be mistaken for a Moor ; 
and he cannot disclose his identity to other Jews, for he 
knows they would betray him. Therefore in all his en- 
deavors he is alone, having neither confidant nor friend. 
He negotiates with Moor and Christian, despising both. 
His influence causes Boabdil to suspect his noblest friend 
and to delay when prompt action is imperatively needed. 
In the Christian camp he has to contend with fanaticism 
and craft as well as ambition, and despite all his address 
and resourcefulness, his attempt to secure by guile and 
treason fair conditions for his people not only fail, but 
produce greater misery and renewed persecution and 
bring upon his own head sufferings, sorrow, and death. 
His energy and courage should command sympathy, but 
the scheming man is a practiser of the sorcerer's arts. 
His appearances are abrupt and mysterious, his deeds 
transcend those of mortals, and although his misfortunes 
are great the pity due to the man is withheld from the 
magician. 

Passion is foreign to the Jew. It perplexes and con- 
founds him ; but sentiment is a ruling influence with all 
the race, and its potency is finely illustrated in Leila, the 
daughter of Almamen. Disliking and distrusting the mer- 
cenary Jews, the Santon has kept Leila apart from all 
her people, and their institutions, customs, and ceremon- 
ies have not been made familiar to her. When trans- 
ferred to a Christian household and made acquainted 
with the teachings and acts of Christ, her gratitude, 
sympathy, and reverence for good cause her to see in 
Christianity not a hostile religion, but a higher develop- 
ment of the creed of the Jew. She forsakes a faith 



122 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

which never has been more than a gloomy mystery to 
her for one which promises precisely what her sorrow 
and hopelessness render precious. 

When persecution was the universal lot of the Jew, 
necessity solidified the race, and through centuries of 
suffering, spoliation, and humiliation, its members main- 
tained the right to think for themselves and refused to 
accept from others either ceremony or belief. But it is 
the daughters of Israel who have preserved the creed 
and institutions of their race, and inspired the resist- 
ance to all dictation in matters of belief. 

With extending toleration, the circumstances which 
made the Jews a peculiar people are changed. Imita- 
tion of and amalgamation with the Gentile increases, and 
the education of the women of Israel may effect what 
force failed to accomplish, and cause the tribes to be 
absorbed by the peoples among whom they live. But a 
pure race, enlightened and cultivated, devoting atten- 
tion to the quality rather than the quantity of their 
offspring, would have advantages over every other peo- 
ple, greater than any at present attributed to the Jew. 

Leila is the most perfunctory production of its au- 
thor. The men and women are not made known to us 
by unfoldings in dialogue and action. Descriptions are 
substituted for revealings, and with few exceptions the 
characters remain undeveloped. Possibly this resulted 
from the limited compass of the work, which was writ- 
ten to accompany steel engravings ' ' by the most eminent 
artists." A strife for superiority in theatrical treat- 
ment seems to have raged among the illustrators. Leila 
was published in 1835. 



CALDERON 

COMPACT, absorbing, and rapid in its action, with 
few characters and no episodical incidents, the tale 
of Calderon has in its plot, its personages, and its 
catastrophe the material of a strong tragedy. Curious- 
ly similar to Le Rois' Amuse it is as odd that Bulwer and 
Hugo should at about the same time have hit upon 
stories with such a likeness, as that The Lady of Lyons 
and Buy Bias were produced in the same year. 



MALTRAVEES 

THE double plot, which is an important character- 
istic of Bulwer's later productions, is the domin- 
ant feature in this, the most fascinating of his 
works, 

Telestic meanings may be found in all great books. 
Cervantes in relating the mischances of Don Quixote 
had a purpose beyond the description of a series of 
adventures. In that work he illustrates the struggle of 
poetry with the commonplace, the ridicule with which 
mankind regards enthusiasm for good, the ingratitude 
of the world to its would-be betterers, with other sig- 
nifications discernible when the romance is attentively 
perused. Usually the occurrence of these suggestions 
is intermittent and merely incidental. But the double 
purpose is a fundamental element in the design of 
Maltrdvers. It is maintained throughout the work, it 
governs the choice of characters and incidents, and 
is the compelling cause of some of the situations. 

The effects produced by the ordinary circles of the 
world upon the moral development of an artist who is 
wealthy and well-born, and whose temptations are more 
insidious and conducive to abandonment of effort than 
are those which beset poverty; the discipline which ad- 
vances him, the influences which thwart or retard, and 
the conduct which ultimately secures serenity and faith 
as additions to fortitude, and makes beneficent activity 



MALTRAVERS 125 

possible, provide the main interest and lessons of the 
book. 

The changes wrought on the characters of other fre- 
quenters of these circles are also shown. He who covets 
praise and immediate popularity, availing himself of 
whatever promises these, deteriorates, finds neither sat- 
isfaction nor content, and sinks from the envious into 
the despicable. 

The intriguing self-seeker, who schemes for power as 
the ministrant to his own importance, finds in these 
same circles means to his ends, ever seems to gain through 
using devious methods, but always finds in apparent 
success disappointment and humiliation; he climbs by 
evil paths to heights which have no glory in prospect, 
no satisfaction in retrospect, no pleasure in possession. 

The work describes and reveals the feelings and ac- 
tion — the mental and moral growth — of those whose 
histories it narrates. It gives graphic pictures of the 
higher social circles of Paris and London, and in dis- 
playing the various agencies which severally influence 
the artistic and the natural, introduces a great number 
of characters who are generalized representatives of the 
world's classes and institutions with which Maltravers 
and Alice are brought into contact. Though each of 
these characters personifies some quality — such as am- 
bition, conventionality, egotism, practical philosophy — 
all are wholly free from the formal rigidity usual in 
allegorical personages. 

Of these depictions, the scheming Ferrars is the most 
elaborate. With careful particularization the gradual 
corruption of his mind is shown as he thrusts himself 



126 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

into power and position, and progresses from youth to 
maturity ; how his adroitness becomes trickery, then de- 
ceit, and presently criminality; and the retributive fate 
by which his despised dupes bring about his ruin at the 
moment of his seeming triumph, and add another to the 
long list of those who approximating themselves to the 
principle of evil — intellect without beneficence — like 
their exemplar, end in failure. 

In a world of mediocrities who not only reprobate 
what they recognize as evil, but suspect the good which 
is above their comprehension, the unselfish necessarily 
meet with much to deter from generous activity, and the 
favor shown to those who by equivocal means have at- 
tained prominence and position is not the least of their 
discouragements. Nevertheless, in the progress of this 
romance it is shown that self approval is of greater value 
than celebrity, and that conduct regulated by principle, 
regardless of mere popularity, results in higher attain- 
ments and greater satisfaction than other courses would 
secure ; that every sin must be suffered for ; and that the 
instances in which vicious methods appear to have suc- 
ceeded are always deceptive, because those who follow 
crooked paths leave contentment behind them, are 
harassed by disquieting anxieties, and are overtaken 
by inevitable disaster. 

Genius is naturally solitary. Maltravers is an orphan, 
whose guidance devolves upon the amiable dilettante 
Cleveland. Educated in Germany, he acquires there a 
high conception of the dignity and principles of art, 
and an ideal standard, too elevated for practical life, 



MALTRAVERS 127 

by which he judges man, the world, and its institutions. 
Exaggerated sentiments, an unregulated love of the 
natural, and the desire to improve whatever he en- 
counters, prompt him to undertake the culture of the 
untutored Alice. He adopts measures recognized as 
unusual and wrong, because they involve secrecy and 
an assumed name; and since those who cultivate art are 
more than ordinarily vulnerable to emotion, the realiza- 
tion of the danger with which the experiment is fraught 
barely precedes his surrender to passion, and the error 
of allowing sentiment to rule conduct produces lasting 
grief, made more poignant by the disappearance of 
Alice. 

Despite the poverty and ^vretchedness of her early 
environment, Alice is not a product of vicious life. Her 
receptivity for cultivation is an inheritance, for her 
father was the son of a gentleman, though that fact was 
twisted by Luke Darvil into an excuse for wrong-doing. 
Though ignorant and unsophisticated, under artistic in- 
fluence she quickly develops the graces natural to her 
sex. Affection is her strongest characteristic, and music, 
the art which reproducing and expressing moods most 
closely approaches feeling, becomes her joy and solace. 
Unaware of sin, she errs, nor recognizes evil in her act ; 
but the affection which misled becomes a duty strength- 
ening with the years. Vicious suggestion is powerless to 
debase, hypocritical example does not corrupt her. Ex- 
perience refines the original strength, patience, and con- 
stancy of the natural. Culture adds comprehension of 
morality and reverence for religion, and these become 



128 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

the principles by which conduct is governed so abso- 
lutely that no circumstance or peril is permitted to cause 
the least infraction of their dictates. 

The artist justly regards wrong-doing as entailing 
responsibility and calling for punishment. He views 
the Deity as a grander reflection of his own ideas, and, 
conscious of having injured another, becomes morbidly 
remorseful, self accusing, and despondent. 

In the society of the practical he by-and-by half for- 
gets what disappointed enthusiasm has lost, and the 
low views of life are opposed to the high. In the fash- 
ionable functions of a court whose frivolous characters 
and formal customs seem to justify the satirist 's opinion 
of mankind, he meets one who, actuated by principle 
and mindful of duty, successfully resists her own weak- 
ness. Though the conventional is inimical to artistic 
advancement because of its bias toward the common- 
place and popular, individuals superior to the class may 
attract the artist, but only disappointment could result 
from any alliance. Friendship, however, is mutually 
beneficial, and this is established. A higher apprecia- 
tion of humanity is restored, and since there can be 
no long continued congeniality between the artist who 
is necessarily sympathetic and the egotist who seeks 
only to put others to use, disgust with the selfishly prac- 
tical ends the companionship of Ferrars and Maltravers. 

Loneliness gives occasion for reflection and creates a 
desire to write. The artist begins composition with 
no aim other than self -development. He meets Cesarini, 
and the spectacle of a mediocre poet overestimating his 
powers, consumed with the desire for immediate fame, 



MALTRAVERS 129 

unhappy, discontented, and deluded, almost affrights 
Maltravers from his purpose. 

De Montai^e the philosopher, practical and effica- 
cious friend and adviser, schools Maltravers into thinking 
justly and perceiving clearly, shows him the requisites 
for useful production, the duty of pursuing his voca- 
tion with high and unselfish aims, dispels his doubt and 
irresolution, and inspires to effort. Intent upon appli- 
cation, Maltravers leaves his Italian friends, and after a 
period of solitude in the retirement of his old home, 
tempts gods and columns as an author. 

The biting reviews, the depreciating praise, and the 
personal abuse with which the contributors to the pe- 
riodical press seek to degrade those who aspire to a 
position in the fierce republic of letters, and which are 
dealt out unsparingly to Maltravers as soon as his book 
is published, rouse resentment, then disgust; and it 
needs all the fine sense and reasoning of De Montaigne 
to reconcile him to his career. 

But enthusiasm and unselfish desire to benefit his race 
have given place to disdain for humanity, and pride has 
become his prevailing characteristic. Misrepresentation 
and abuse, even if disregarded, have evil effects on the 
artist, inasmuch as they destroy his confidence in justice 
and narrow his sympathies. Maltravers has become 
wiser, but also harsher. Stem principles, not generous 
sentiments, now rule his conduct. He is strong to resist 
temptation, but no longer anxious to do good. He re- 
sumes literary work, in addition to which he undertakes 
the toils of a legislator, and slowly acquires power and 
fame. 



130 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Again Cesarini appears; envious, accusing, jealous, 
and manifesting his vanity by an affectation of the pic- 
turesque in costume and conduct. Wasting his powers 
and his means in unworthy pretensions, feted by a co- 
terie and mistaking that for fame, Cesarini is a type of 
the charlatanic writer. He composes verses about pas- 
sions and situations never experienced, praises gloom 
and solitude, affects strange dress, and blames the lack 
of these characteristics in others. He aspires to the hand 
of Lady Florence, and welcomes the fulsome flattery of 
Ferrars, in both instances exposing his want of com- 
mon sense. He sacrifices his integrity for a foolish re- 
venge, allows passion to distort conduct into injustice, 
and sinks from the poet into the criminal. 

In the great World of fashion and wealth, these con- 
trasting types of the followers of art meet Lady Flor- 
ence. To Cesarini she is patronizing, but he miscon- 
strues her courtesies into evidences of love. To Mal- 
travers she would be an Egeria, inspiring and guiding 
to other fields than those of art. Influence and fame 
she desires for him, but power is her great object. 

Cesarini avows his love and is contemptuously reject- 
ed. Maltravers is surprised into a declaration and is 
accepted. But he quickly regrets this impulsive act, for 
the artist requires serenity and confidence, and these are 
incompatible with her exacting and aspiring aims. She 
is the pei^onification of ambition. Beautiful, attractive, 
and ardent, her partial comprehension of the world is 
derived from the narrow coterie in which her lot is cast, 
and she regards with disdain most of its frequenters. 
Pique and vanity cause her interest in Maltravers, which 



MALTRAVERS 131 

changes to ambition for him, an ambition she designs to 
guide and direct. Too selfish to judge men aright, she 
errs in all her estimates of theiJi. Too ready to believe 
that all act from interested motives, she wrecks her hap- 
piness and her life by willingly yielding to suspicion. 
But her intimacy with Maltravers elevates her beliefs 
and softens her conduct. She begins to see that pa- 
triotism and virtue are something more than names, and 
becomes better fitted for noble uses in the world, just as 
fate hurries her from it. 

Cesarini, prompted by Ferrars, plays on her weakness 
and causes the breaking of her engagement, which re- 
sults in her death. Maltravers learns part of the plot 
which maligned him and deceived Lady Florence, and 
disgust with men is added to his scorn of the world and 
the; objects he had pursued. He withdraws from strife 
with competitors whom he despises, leaves England, and 
among the nomad Arabs learns to live alone, remote 
from and regardless of his fellowmen. 

But he is an artist, whom barbarism can only tran- 
siently interest and satisfy, and presently the world of 
finer possibilities lures him back. 

After varied travels Maltravers returns to his home. 
He has taught himself to regard efforts in amelioration 
of the condition of humanity as useless. Men in the 
mass are, ever have been, and will continue to be, dis- 
contented and unhappy. Only to the few in each gen- 
eration is any exception to the universal lot vouchsafed, 
and effects are so different from intents that he questions 
whether the active philanthropist does more good than 
evil. Civilization is the continued sacrifice of one gen- 



132 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

eration to the next, and he adopts a policy of indiffer- 
entism which justifies his abstention from effort in the 
large labors of his land. He employs himself in improv- 
ing his estate and its dependents. Art is no longer cul- 
tivated. He limits his aims to being just, expecting 
little from mankind; and cherishing pride as a virtue, 
he is not restrained by consideration for others from in- 
dulging in sarcasms which wound. 

Again De Montaigne controverts the justice of his con- 
clusions, shows that discontent is the source of perpetual 
progress and may have no goal even in Heaven; that 
progress and improvement do go together though a few 
social measures may have failed to accomplish the de- 
sired ends, for the life of the worker has been lengthened 
and the quality of his desires improved. The discon- 
tented serf after receiving freedom desires higher wages, 
greater comforts, easier justice; all nobler wants, all 
springing from discontent, which can only be banished 
by activity. Activity is virtuous therefore, privileges 
are accompanied by obligations, the mission of genius 
can only be discharged in action. And to labor in the 
service of mankind is at once a duty and a blessing. 

His system of false philosophy is thus disturbed. But 
when he recalls his former drudgeries in politics and lit- 
erature, the small enmities, the false friendships, the 
malice, the envy, and the abuse which accompany high- 
purposed activity, dismay him, and he shrinks from re- 
entering public life. The solitude of his home oppresses 
him. He has no object in life, and regrets for the past 
consume him. And then he meets Evelyn, whose youth, 



MALTRAVERS 133 

truth, and goodness recall Alice. Wearied and lonely, he 
fancies that with her the void in his life might be filled. 

Ferrars, now Lord Vargrave, intent upon securing to 
himself the fortune of Evelyn, imposes upon Maltravers 
by a false tale of consanguinity, and thereby causes the 
renunciation of Evelyn. Maltravers resolves to leave 
Europe, but an impulse causes him to return to England, 
and there he learns that Vargrave's representations 
were deliberately untruthful. Meeting Alice again he 
becomes aware that it was certain resemblances in tone, 
gesture, and manner which Evelyn bore to Alice that had 
attracted him. And that it is in Alice — the natural 
enriched by culture and experience, more faithful and 
firm under trial and temptation, more constant and un- 
selfish in affection, sympathy, and beneficence than him- 
self — he must find the completing cro\^Ti of his own de- 
velopment. Thus the artistic having acquired knowl- 
edge of the true uses of the ideal and the actual, and the 
natural having been elevated and refined by sacrifice and 
experience, are brought together; and with serenity se- 
cured and faith strengthened, it becomes possible for 
knowledge and experience to be applied to definite and 
useful purposes. 

The artist's irregular and sentimental admiration and 
devotion to the natural produced error and remorse, for 
sentiment fails as a guide to conduct whenever passion 
appears. 

The egotist opposed the commonplace views to the 
ideal, but their trend toward the low caused disgust and 
abandonment. 



134 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

The conventional as desired would have been a de- 
grading tie ; when its usages are properly respected it is 
helpful, consolatory, and inspiring. 

Ambition allured and also distracted but never could 
have satisfied, for it aims at power, with which art has 
no concern. 

The artist recognizing the ideal as a standard toward 
which efforts should be bent, and the practical as a con- 
dition from which elevating processes should be directed, 
becomes more steadfast, less haughty, and better fitted 
to produce refined and exalting works. 

The natural undergoes other experiences than those 
which school the artistic. In the one, intellect is dis- 
ciplined. In the other, feeling is refined. The qualities 
of the one are of the head, the qualities of the other are 
of the heart. Constancy and faith elevate affection; 
duty and religion strengthen it, and fit the probationers 
for that companionship which immaturity rendered 
harmful to both. 

These are a few of the secondary significances of Mal- 
travers. 

His own experiences qualified Bulwer to write about 
the preparation and composition of literary works, but 
his remarks are not applicable to his own publications or 
career. Unlike Maltravers, he had to earn his livelihood 
by his pen, and periodicals, annuals, and magazines were 
contributed to by him with an industry that precluded 
the careful elaboration his hero was able to bestow. 
Many of the observations may be reminiscent, as for in- 
stance those on the changed conditions and feelings of 
the author at the time a book is published from those 



MALTRAVERS 135 

under which it was composed. But the author in the 
book is a very different individual from the author of 
the book, 

Maltravers contains acute and remarkable observa- 
tions on the fluctuations of civilization, the constant 
gains accruing from social improvements, the compara- 
tive unimportance of political forms or governmental 
changes, and the characteristics of French literature of 
the reign of Louis Philippe. 

It was published in two parts, the first under the title 
of Ernest Maltravers in 1835, the second, called Alice, 
two years later. 



SHORT STORIES 

THE tales in The Pilgrims of the Rhine are a part 
of the design of that work. They show the range 
of German literary activity, and wean Gertrude 
Vane from longings for that length of years which fate 
denies her. Other stories were written by Bulwer of 
which the more important are fourteen in number. 
"Monos and Diamonos" and the seven next succeeding 
are in The Stude^it. "The Law of Arrest" appeared in 
The Neil) Monthly Magazine for 1832, and was included 
in the first issue of The Student, but omitted from later 
editions. "De Lindsay" is in The New Monthly for 1830, 
and "Hereditary Honours" and "The Nymph of .the 
Lurlie Berg" in The New Monthly for 1832. "An Ep- 
isode from Life" was contributed to one of Lady Bless- 
ington's annuals and "The Haunted and the Haunters" 
to Blackwood's Magazine, August, 1859. 

"Monos and Diamonos" has for its moral the need of 
sinlessness in those who desire solitude for its pleasure. 

' ' The World as It Is" inculcates the wisdom of modera- 
tion in estimating the characters of those with whom we 
come in contact, because without it disappointments will 
be experienced, and from being too confiding we may be- 
come over-suspicious. 

"The Choice of Phylias" illustrates the proposition 
that day is not more separate from night than true fame 



SHORT STORIES 137 

from general popularity; for to shine is to injure the 
selflove of others, and selflove is the most vindictive of 
human feelings. 

''The True Ordeal of Love" is constant companionship. 
It is easy for two persons to die joyfully together when 
lovers, but difficult to live comfortably together when 
married and seeing too much of each other. 

"Arasmanes the Seeker" for Aden or content, con- 
stantly finds what others represent as that condition, 
but neither in love nor learning, nor commerce nor ad- 
venture, nor power does he find it. When its attainment 
appears to be possible at the expense of crime, his friend 
is sacrificed, but only in death is found that content 
which is procurable by a search for it. 

"Chairolas" treats of the perilous period between boy- 
hood and manhood, and the dangerous possibility that 
noble enthusiasms may, as the result of ridicule or de- 
ception, be discarded as follies, and the endowment which 
these would ennoble and make beneficial, thus become a 
curse. 

"Fi-ho-ti" sets forth the unpleasant accompaniments 
of reputation. Those whose counsel he has followed be- 
come frigid to him, the friends of his youth manifest 
their jealousy, new acquaintances are exacting and un- 
sympathetic, and each new benefit conferred upon the 
world raises a chorus of abuse and calumny. His atten- 
tions flatter but do not win affection, and his benefactions 
are accepted but awaken no gratitude ; and disgusted and 
rendered suspicious, the sole boon craved is escape from 
reputation. 

"Ferdinand Fitzroy" exhibits the inconvenience of be- 



138 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ing too handsome. On the one hand it is regarded as 
rendering unnecessary the cultivation of mental quali- 
ties. On the other it is a cause of these being denied or 
belittled. He is too handsome for a scholar, a lawyer, 
or a soldier, or for a member of parliament, or a hus- 
band, or an heir, or anything except a prison. 

* ' The Law of Arrest" ridicules a law, since repealed, by 
which on a false oath of debt a person could be deprived 
of his liberty until trial, and then be discharged because 
his accuser did not appear; he having profited in the 
meanwhile, and not being punishable, except through 
prosecution for perjury. 

"DeLindsay" is the story of one who, after years of 
profligate indulgence, meets and loves the daughter of a 
bigoted merchant. Her goodness awakens his higher na- 
ture, and prompts to reforms which promise atonement, 
which at the point of realization are frustrated by the 
revenge of one previously injured. 

''Hereditary Honours" are satirised by an account of 
the love of a lawyer's daughter for one who has an hered- 
itary title and a provision from the government, but who 
turns out to be The Hereditary Hangman. 

' ' The Nymph of the Lurlei Berb. ' ' — Actuated by a de- 
sire to win the gold guarded by the water spirits of the 
Rhine, a young spendthrift, ''by birth a knight, by ne- 
cessity a robber, and by name and nature Rupert the 
Fearnought," feigns love for Lurline, a water nymph, 
and cajoles her into entrusting him with her treasures 
to enable him to restore his impoverished castle, to which 
he promises to conduct her as soon as it is fitted for her 
reception. He returns no more, but presently arranges 



SHORT STORIES 139 

to espouse the Ladye of Lorchausen. Then the guard- 
ians of Lurline beguile the bride's vessel to the rocks, 
and revenge on the faithless lover the wrongs of the 
water spirit by robbing him of his bride and her treas- 
ure. 

' ' An Episode in Life. ' ' A student in occult matters re- 
quiring a document his dead father had possessed, but 
which cannot now be found, by his art, using his daugh- 
ter as an intermediary, calls up the spirit of his father, 
which warns him against persisting in his search. Dis- 
regarding this injunction, he perseveres and finds the lost 
papers, but causes the death of his daughter, and brings 
about his own ruin. 

"The Haunted and the Haunters" is an attempt to 
construct an interest akin to that formerly felt in tales of 
witchcraft and ghostland out of ideas and beliefs which 
have crept into fashion in the society of our own day, 
and which are summed up in the term spiritualism. The 
phenomena accompanying these beliefs are receiving in- 
quisitive examination, but for conclusive theory the 
facts are as yet insufficient and the evidence inadequate- 
ly tested. In this condition they are legitimate material 
for art. 

Learning of a haunted house in London, the author, 
accompanied by his servant and his dog, undertakes 
the occupancy of the place, and after examining the 
premises thoroughly awaits developments, which quickly 
ensue. These impress him with the idea that some ex- 
traordinarily strong will is opposed to whoever and 
whatever inhabits the house. His servant is affrighted 
and runs away, his dog's neck is broken, and he is op- 



140 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

pressed with an unnatural horror. But believing that 
all he is subjected to has a material living cause, that 
much of what is called supernatural is merely some- 
thing of which we have been hitherto ignorant, and that 
what was presented to his senses must originate in some 
human being, he feels interest but not fear, and per- 
sists. Because of the sensations being much more in- 
tense in one particular room, he advises the owner to 
destroy that room. They find beneath it a hidden cham- 
ber in which is an apparatus for the enforcement of the 
"Will and the perpetual curse of restlessness upon the 
house and all who dwell therein, and a miniature and 
some writing, by which the originator is made recogniza- 
ble. A few days after, the author beholds the original 
of the miniature, is introduced to him, and directs the 
conversation to the experiences in the haunted house. 
He is thereupon thrown into a trance and made to 
answer questions concerning the future of the Man 
with the Will, then left asleep. Afterward he receives 
a note from this man forbidding for three months any 
communication of what had passed, which inhibition he 
is utterly unable tO' break. 



NIGHT AND MORNING 

OF this work, conduct is the theme. Not the ad- 
vantage of cultivating mental qualities, but the 
imperative need of determined and persistent 
effort; of respecting, cherishing, and practicing rigid 
honesty; of bearing with fortitude the trials which are 
incidental to all lives, and of sacrificing self, when the 
occasion arises, no matter how bitter the ordeal. For 
from each right act there follows a gain in strength, and 
a sense of satisfaction not otherwise attainable ; and he 
who resolutely resists temptation, endures reverses and 
disappointments without whining, who works patiently 
even at disagreeable tasks, but never forfeits self es- 
teem, nor incurs the disapproval of his own conscience, 
will find the opportunity for which his discipline has 
qualified him, and emerging from the Night of sorrow 
and trial into the Morning of hope and satisfaction, 
will obtain that content which is the most enviable of 
possessions. 

The production of a series of acting plays preceded 
the composition of Night and Morning, and as a result 
of the mastery of the art of the playwright, this and 
succeeding works possess greater condensation, more 
compact structure, and have many situations essentially 
dramatic in treatment and effect. 

The potentiality of circumstances in influencing con- 



142 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

duct for evil where the individual is weak or careless, is 
repeatedly shown, and responsibility for some of these 
results is placed upon society, whose province it should 
be to deal with vice, as law does with crime. The fine 
world which approves a Lilburn and blasts a Gawtry, 
has its part in causing the criminality of the latter, and 
encouraging the worst deeds of the former. Society 
suffers from both, and deservedly so, for it ought to 
amend the circumstances, and not be content with 
preaching at vice, and punishing crime. 

The characters are not transcripts from life, but gen- 
eralizations from wide experience. William Gawtry is a 
supremely tragic figure who compels both pity and ter- 
ror. Roberts Beaufort is an original type of the "re- 
spectable" man, weak, selfish, formal, and unaware of 
his own ingrained despicability. Lilburn is a copy of 
Saville in Godolphin, but with more energy and daring. 

The important incidents, while never straining the 
confidence of the reader, are nevertheless such as could 
not be imitated. The ingenuities of Gawtry afford no 
suggestions to the evilly inclined, the villainies of Lil- 
burn are only practicable after elaborate tuition. Both 
in personages and events the actual is carefully avoided. 

The history of Caleb Price, which is given in the open- 
ing chapter of Night and Morning, contrasts that of the 
hero of the work, by showing how a similar reverse of 
fortune affects one without energy, and prone to depend 
on others. In careless expectation of provision from 
richer friends, Caleb wastes his means and his early 
years. The action of life separates him from his wealthy 
companions, and he subsides into a poor clergyman. His 



NIGHT AND MORNING 143 

exile is brightened for a brief period by a visit from an 
old school-fellow, for whom he performs a private mar- 
riage. Left in solitude, he indulges in dreams of a 
home, strives vainly to win a partner, and then fades 
out of life, his last hours being cheered by an offer of 
advancement, which comes too late. 

Philip Morton, only a boy when the story opens, has 
been reared in luxury, his propensities to pride, extrav- 
agance, and imperiousness encouraged rather than 
checked ; and though, generous and courageous, his char- 
acter shows nothing to indicate anything better than 
an energetic, dictatorial manhood, unredeemed by moral 
or intellectual culture. By the sudden death of his 
father he finds himself poor, nameless, and dependent 
on the charity of him who has appropriated the prop- 
erty hitherto regarded as his heritage. His mother is 
failing rapidly, and his brother, a mere child, is deli- 
cate and timid; but although moneyless and without 
trade or profession he refuses the aid of his usurping 
uncle and seeks employment, accepting the first position 
offered him, that of assistant to a bookseller. Subdu- 
ing his pride, he leaves his home, journeys to the town 
where his employer lives, performs tasks uncongenial to 
him, refrains from all indulgences, and saves to aid his 
mother. Ere long he learns that her death is imminent. 
His funds are insufficient for any useful purpose. He 
asks an advance from his master, which is refused. An 
opportunity to appropriate money presents itself. Yield- 
ing to the temptation, he seizes some coins, but drops 
them again; and on foot hurries to his mother. He 
finds her dead, and his uncle, who has been called to 



144 PROSE ROIVIANCES OF BULWER 

her side and offers aid, is denounced and ordered away. 

After the funeral, with his child brother he seeks 
work again, unsuccessfully, until his horsemanship wins 
him employment. 

His uncle has employed a lawyer to find and assist 
him, but he mistakes the object of this agent, and sus- 
pects that punishment for his action at the bookseller's 
is intended, and with his brother he takes to flight. 

His uncle is not the only person who is anxious to find 
him. An older friend of his mother also desires to take 
charge of at least one of the boys, and Sidney is found 
and taken away by this gentleman. Philip searches for 
his brother, spends all his money in trying to find him, 
and only ceases after receiving an upbraiding letter from 
the child, who asks to be left in peace where he is well 
cared for. Friendless and objectless, Philip works at 
any labor offered, and endures misery and poverty until, 
dispirited and starving, he seeks the only man who has 
ever offered him a kindness, and presently finds him- 
self with Gawtry at Paris. 

Gawtry lives by his wits, at war with law, and his 
ingenious schemings are all frauds, but Philip is un- 
aware of this until deepening necessities compel partial 
confidences from Gawtry, and a promise to show how 
their present livelihood is won. In fulfilment of this 
promise he is taken to the quarters of Gawtry 's friends, 
and finds that they are coiners. Before any expostula- 
tion or protest can be made, a new member is introduced 
to the band, in whom Gawtry recognizes an agent of 
the police, notwithstanding his clever disguise. Work 



NIGHT AND MORNING 145 

ceases, and a feast is provided in honor of the new addi- 
tion to their ranks. Gawtry banters this individual for 
awhile, then to the consternation of all addresses him 
as Monsieur Favart, and seizes and slays the dreaded 
detective and also the traitor who obtained his admis- 
sion; and then all flee. Pursued by officers, Gawtry is 
shot and killed. Philip escapes and is protected and 
hidden by a lady whose reputation is jeopardized by 
her act. 

This sacrifice he would fain repair, and circumstances 
conspire to render other methods impossible, so mar- 
riage is resolved on. He becomes engaged, but in order 
that he may win some honorable distinction before 
claiming the hand of one so generous and noble, he 
joins the French army under the name of De Vaude- 
mont. Mme. De Merville dies from an illness contracted 
in one of her many errands of kindness. To conquer 
his sorrow and carve out a reputation, Philip becomes 
a soldier in India, and in the course of years wins re- 
spect, esteem, and fortune. 

Then he returns to England to seek his brother, and 
to strive for justice and reparation. He secures proofs 
that his parents were married, loses his heart to the 
daughter of his usurping uncle, and finds in his rival 
for her hand the brother hitherto vainly sought for. 
Reconciliation and the giving up of his betrothed to Sid- 
ney follows, and Philip finds consolation and happiness 
with Fanny. 

In giving this partner to Philip, there is this injustice : 
that the tainted blood of Lilbum is transmitted to an- 



146 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

other generation, and thereby an injury to the race con- 
tinued, otherwise the potentiality of inheritance is un- 
derestimated or heredity regarded as unimportajit. 

The trials undergone by Philip weed out the willful- 
ness and arrogance which characterised his youth, and 
presaged an unamiable maturity. He is taught the in- 
convenience of pride, the necessity of consideration for 
others, the blight of evil associates; that good qualities 
manifest themselves both in humble persons and patri- 
cians ; and that circumstances are so compelling a factor 
in life that man's judgment of actions is by necessity 
partial, and usually unjust. 

A curious trend in Bulwer's ideas on woman is in- 
dicated in the portrayal of the heroine of this work. 
He appears to have concluded that active qualities such 
as kindness, sympathy, devotion, and confidence are 
of more importance in the helpmeet than a cultivated 
intellect and acquired accomplishments. In Maltravers 
Alice is one whose early ignorance kept her mind un- 
formed, and in this work Fanny is shown as one of be- 
lated mental awakening. True, it is seeming backward- 
ness only. High capabilities are brought out whenever 
occasion demands, but the household virtues are given 
unmistakable preference, intellectual qualities being 
treated as nonessentials in the wife of the active man. 

Night and Morning was published in 1841. 



ZANONI 

HUMAN life, exempt from the usual penalties of 
existence, but still subject to human emotion ; the 
nature and purposes of Art ; and the preparations 
for and necessary conditions of the artist's life are con- 
templated and expounded in this work. The exemplars 
of life prolonged through the centuries belong to an au- 
gust fraternity which has acquired secrets and powers by 
means of which the material form can be perpetually 
renewed and death deferred for ages, the conditions 
upon which these privileges depend being an abstention 
from human love, and an entire freedom from fear. 
Age had made Mejnour impervious to passion or feel- 
ing before he accepted the last gift of his order, and 
knowledge alone attracts him ; but before the departure 
of youth Zanoni had reached the highest Theurgic rank, 
and mastered its last secrets. He is interested in all 
that improves life and its conditions, and humanity 
is still dear to him. 

This continued existence is joyous and engrossing, for 
only those who are brave, just, wise, and temperate can 
attain to it ; and as its masters possess unusual faculties 
and capacities, and are admitted to another world of 
existence, that of the beings of the air (who though 
impalpable and imperceptible to the uninitiated, are 
familiar to the adepts) , it provides ceaseless interest, eon- 



148 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

stant augmentation of knowledge, the ability to influ- 
ence, direct or actively participate in the affairs of men, 
to counsel and assist those whose endeavors and aspira- 
tions are worthy and noble, and to thwart the designs 
of the objectionable. 

The scenes and events which provide the means by 
which the representatives of this sublime brotherhood 
are shown and unfolded in action and in thought, have 
their beginning in the home of an Italian musician, whose 
fondness for the strange and unearthly as subjects for 
his compositions; long militated against any recognition 
of his undeniable ability. Devoted to his art, but care- 
less of all beside except his wife and daughter, on whom 
is concentrated whatever of his affection is spared from 
the barbiton which is his constant companion and con- 
fidant, and in whose strains are reflected the varying 
moods of the master, the amiable enthusiast has pro- 
duced many works, without being able to secure the 
representation of one. 

Viola, his ''other child," has been trained for the 
operatic stage, and her flrst appearance is announced in 
a new opera, the authorship of which is not disclosed 
to the public. She has insisted that her father's favor- 
ite work shall be thus produced, and the twofold success 
which results lifts both author and singer into fame. 

The joy and satisfaction so long delayed is of brief 
duration, for the musician falls ill of a fever. His wife 
contracts the disease while nursing him, and dies. At 
a critical stage in his illness, he misses his barbiton and 
rises to search for it. From his affrighted servant he 
learns of his wife 's death, and broken-hearted, he draws 



ZANONI 149 

from his old familiar, notes of more piercing wail and 
poignant agony than ever before. It is his last effort. 
The strings snap, and he dies, asking that "it" be buried 
with him, near ' ' her. ' ' 

In the sorrow and subsequent trials of the orphan, 
Zanoni, who had already aroused Viola's interest, coun- 
sels, aids, and protects her, and endeavors to bring about 
her union with a younger suitor. Glyndon, for whom 
the preference of Viola is thus sought, has become fas- 
cinated by Zanoni, and is eager to possess similar knowl- 
edge and power. Learning that this is possible he re- 
nounces Viola, and requests to be admitted to the broth- 
erhood for love has passed from his heart. For the 
purpose of preparation and initiation he becomes Mei- 
nour's pupil, and Zanoni stoops from the height of his 
attainments and yields to love, taking his bride to a 
Grecian island where he seeks to lift her to his own 
world. But affection is all-sufficing to Viola. She has 
no farther desire, and love draws Zanoni 's nature down 
to hers. One by one his magic gifts fall from him. The 
bright creatures of the air no longer respond to his call, 
and the malevolent ones obtrude themselves. He has 
forfeited his power and become as other men, and is 
oppressed by a foreboding of woe and horror and death. 
He becomes a father, and the hope that by means of a 
being in whom both meet he may with them reascend to 
the realms he has lost, rejoices and inspires him with 
new hopes. But his watchings and murmurings over 
his child perturb the mother, and make her fearful for 
it, and a priest who is consulted during Zanoni 's ab- 
sence so alarms her, that to save her child from its 



150 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

father she flees from their home and takes refuge iu 
Paris, where the Terror reigns, and where presently she 
is arrested as a spy. 

Zanoni, searching for his wife, discovers that she is in 
prison, and that her trial is fixed for the third day for- 
ward. He mixes actively in affairs, to the end that 
Robespierre's fall may precede and prevent Viola's con- 
demnation. He succeeds in his plans, but all his ef- 
forts are rendered futile, for the tyrant orders the trials 
to be advanced. Thwarted and despairing, in the agony 
of his disappointment Zanoni again attempts to invoke 
the aid of the wisest of his former visitants. His in- 
tensity prevails. Adon-ai comes to his call and comforts 
him by showing that the brightest immortality can never 
be on earth, but is beyond the grave, where infinite pro- 
gression does not preclude companionship with those 
beloved and known on earth; that no mortal care and 
provision for offspring can be as wise and good as that 
of the Almighty Father, and that the common lot of 
humanity is that of the highest privilege. Accepting 
these conclusions, Zanoni no longer seeks to evade the 
nearing end of his glorious existence. He arranges with 
the judge that he shall be tried in his wife's place, thus 
securing her safety beyond the days of the Terror. 
He is condemned and led to Viola's cell, changing her 
despair into delight. He blesses his child, gives his 
wife an amulet she had oft desired, and which he had 
promised should be hers ''when the laws of their being 
should be the same"; and leaving her asleep and un- 
aware of his sacrifice, goes forth to his death. 

Glyndon, the aspirer to higher powers, under the di- 



ZANONI 151 

rection of Mejnour betakes himself to the place selected 
for his preparation, a ruined and remote old castle, and 
after he has accustomed himself to his surroundings he 
is brought to a state wherein contemplation and imag- 
ining become familiar. Meinour's science, he finds, is 
devoted first to the secrets of the human frame, and 
secondly to the knowledge which elevates the intellect. 
Under the care of the master, indifference to the world 
and its vanities is induced, but an impatient eagerness 
for results consumes him, and this impels him to seek 
Mejnour, and to enter unannounced the apartment ap- 
propriated by the master. A diffused fra^ance is per- 
ceived, dim forms seen, and an icy and intolerable cold 
almost slays him. He is carried from the room by Mej- 
nour, and warned of the danger incurred by venturing 
unprepared into that atmosphere, but he is ardent for 
further progress and asks initiation. Mejnour approves 
his desire, and induces trance, the first step in all knowl- 
edge. In this condition he wishes to see Zanoni and 
Viola, and his unuttered desire is gratified. Then he is 
dismissed to meditate until midnight. When pupil and 
master meet Mejnour reminds him how naturally ar- 
rogant is man, who fancied all creation made for him, 
and long thought that the stars only shone to make the 
night agreeable. Now he knows that each is a world 
rivalling this in size and splendor. But in the small 
as in the large, God is equally profuse of life. Not a 
leaf, not a drop of water, but has its appropriate in- 
habitants, and even the air is peopled by various races. 
In that realm are some beings of wonderful intellect and 
wisdom, and some of implacable malignity, and the in- 



152 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

tercourse once gained, no instruction or guidance can 
avail to secure the one or evade the other. Step by step 
must the pupil himself dare, and choose, and repel. To 
penetrate the barriers separating them from us, the soul 
must be sharpened by enthusiasm and purified from 
earthly desires. To the unprepared the region is one of 
horror, for the first thing to be encountered is a being 
surpassing all others in malevolence and hate, the Dwell- 
er on the Threshold. 

Then the master shows him how simply some effects, 
which seem wild cheats of the senses, can be performed, 
and gives him tasks requiring vigilant attention, and 
minute calculation. The results of these fill Glyndon 
with astonishment, though the last steps by which they 
are achieved are not communicated, but reserved until 
Mejnour deems his pupil worthy. 

After much labor and intercourse of this kind, Glyn- 
don 's progress encourages Mejnour to leave him for one 
month, during the solitude of which other tasks are to 
be performed, and his mind prepared by austere thought 
for farther advance. As an ordeal, the key of Mej- 
nour 's room is entrusted to him with the injunction that 
the chamber must not be entered, that the lamps in it 
are not to be lighted, and he is warned that this very 
temptation is a part of his trial. 

For some days Glyndon is absorbed in his work, but 
soon his tasks are all completed, and he finds his thoughts 
dwelling on the forbidden room. He strives by bodily 
fatigue to subdue his mind, and takes long walks. One 
day his steps lead him where peasants hold a festival. 
Among the dancers is a young girl of great beauty, who 



ZANONI 153 

attracts him so much that when he is invited to join 
them he does so, and dances with Fillide, flirts with her, 
and arranges to meet her again. A decrepit old man 
to whom he gives alms advises him to enjoy his youth, 
saying, "I too was once young. ' ' 

On the morrow this phrase keeps ringing in his ear, 
and his tasks become distasteful. He determines not to 
wait for Menjour's return, but to master the secrets 
alone. He enters the forbidden chamber, reads from a 
large book, left open at a page which seemed to antici- 
patei his act, for it gave instructions which he followed; 
he lights the lamps and unstoppers one of the vials. 
Hearing his servant 's voice he recloses the vase, and goes 
to learn his errand. Paolo expresses surprise at his 
improved appearance, gives him a message from Fillide, 
and a letter from Mejnour announcing his return next 
day. Having disobeyed the master 'si injunctions, Glyn- 
don realizes that he must take advantage of the brief 
time left him. He meets Fillide, then hastens back, en- 
ters the room and proceeds as instructed by the book. 
He lights the nine lamps, and inhales the essence. Icy 
coldness is succeeded by exhilaration. The lights grow 
dim, and he perceives airy shapes gliding around, and 
he hears as it were ghosts of voices. Presently he be- 
comes aware of a more horrifying presence, which by 
degrees shapes itself to his sight. What he sees is like 
a human head covered with a dark veil, through which 
glare eyes that freeze him with terror. Gliding or 
crawling like some misshapen reptile the Thing ad- 
vances toward him, and speaks. His agony becomes un- 
bearable. He falls to the floor insensible and knows 



154 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

no more till noon next day, when he finds himself in 
bed, and learns that Mejnour had arrived, and departed 
again, leaving a letter in which while dismissing him as 
unworthy of the brotherhood, since incapable of ab- 
stinence from the sensual, lacking patience, and scant 
of faith, he proceeds to warn him that having disobe- 
diently quaffed the elixir he has awakened powers that, 
properly directed, might lead to high achievement, but 
he has also thereby attracted to his presence a remorse- 
less foe, and that only by strong effort could he regain 
his accustomed calm; that by resolute resistance to the 
thoughts by which it tempted, and brave disregard of 
the horror it engendered, its power to harm could be 
conquered, but that he must endure its presence and 
wrestle with its temptations, since none could exorcise 
the foe he had invoked, which is most to be dreaded 
when unseen. Thus the loftier world, for which he had 
thirsted, and sacrificed, and toiled, is closed from him 
forever by his own fault. 

A feeling of indignation against Mejnour arises, and 
he tries to persuade himself that he had been deluded, 
and that he had not really seen the Thing. And though . 
Mejnour had denied him his science, he still has his art, 
and to that he now reverts. He revisits the fatal room 
and finds it denuded of all save the simplest furniture^ 
then returning to his own chamber, begins to sketch a 
scene he had heard described by Mejnour. Absorbed 
in his subject, he works on until the air grows chill, the 
lights dim, and again the mantled Thing is in the room 
and nearing him. Despite all the courage he can sum- 
mon he is unable to withstand the horror it produces^ 



ZANONI 155 

"With a violent effort he breaks from the room and hast- 
ens from the place. 

He searches for Mejnour everywhere, but unavailing- 
ly. With Fillide as companion, or in dissipation or 
riot, he is freed from the sight of the foe, but whenever 
he turns to something worthy, it becomes visible and ap- 
palling. Mejnour meets him and again reminds him 
that only by resistance can the haunting terror be mas- 
tered — that when unseen it is most to be dreaded ; that 
now it is shaping his every step, marshalling him toward 
Paris, where his destiny will be fulfilled. In an at- 
tempt to act as Mejnour directs, Glyndon goes to Lon- 
don, and in the society of his sister endures and resists, 
but desiring sympathy, he confides his tale to her, and 
the recital so affects her as to cause her death. Thence- 
forth Glyndon has no friend. He plunges into dissipa- 
tion, joins Fillide again, and takes up his abode in Paris. 

Believing the objects of the revolutionary leaders to 
be high and noble, he becomes an active ally. When he 
sees his error and plans to abandon Paris, Fillide be- 
trays him. In his extremity he is rescued by Zanoni, 
who has reached Paris in his search for Viola, and who 
counsels Glyndon, encourages him, and provides for 
his return to England, where, following Zanoni 's injunc- 
tions, he finds deliverance. 

Zanoni typifies Poetry, the highest manifestation of 
art, the noblest result of the imaginative exercise of 
man 's intellect ; seeming national to each modern race, 
though of origin more antique than any; unaffected 
and calm, but capable of profound feeling and inspiring 
to action; disdaining the ordinary objects of am- 



156 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

bition, and careless of honors or awards; yet inter- 
ested in every worthy aspiration, and encouraging and 
aiding every well intentioned application of (knowledge 
or effort. Regarded as a magician by the vulgar, as a 
god by the simple, he awes, disturbs, daunts, and warns 
from evil, rouses enthusiasm, and incites to emulation 
of the heroic, and to reverence for the good, less by 
counsel than by suggestion, for men become more ad- 
mirable in their lives merely by associating with him. 

Accustomed to intense concentration, he is thereby 
enabled to exercise insight and foresight. Familiar 
with that Ideal "World which envelopes the known as the 
atmosphere surrounds the earth, he communes with the 
habitants of that realm, and is elevated and illumined 
by beings and ideas more splendid than ordinary ex- 
perience gives occasion for. 

But his acquirements and powers need for their con- 
tinued growth and exercise the absolute absence of all 
that disturbs or disquiets, because for the accomplish- 
ing of whatever is great, the clear perception of truths 
adapted to the object desired is the first requisite, and 
only in a state of perfect serenity is the mind capable 
of apprehending such truths. Therefore human affec- 
tion is incompatible with high attainment in art, and is 
a fatal peril to Zanoni, and when he submits to its in- 
fluence the relinquishing of his privileges and powers 
necessarily follows. 

The dream that love can be exalted proves delusive, 
for affection extinguishes aspiration in the wife, whose 
ambitions contract into the one desire to monopolize her 
husband's attentions. Nor by mutual interest in off- 



ZANONI 157 

spring can ascent to higher things be facilitated, for the 
mother is stronger than the wife, and suspects and mis- 
construes all interference with her child. The result- 
ing cares and anxieties, the exactions of the trivial, de- 
stroy serenity, and draw the lofty down to the common- 
place; and despite his efforts and designs, whelm him 
into the actual, where he perishes. But with the real- 
ization of his failure he is taught that the brightest of 
his spelled visitants is but an adumbration of the glories 
beyond ; that this world was never intended for the cul- 
tivation of such life as the artist conceives; that faith 
is the necessary completion of imagination; that death 
should be welcomed as the beginning of a continually 
ascending existence; and that the sacrifice of life is 
wiser than the mistaken endeavor to secure its continu- 
ance here, where its possibilities are limited and 
dwarfed. 

Mejnour pei*sonifies science, the product of reason- 
ing; which examining, measuring, and comparing con- 
tinually, augments the actual knowledge of all material 
things. Reasoning is not congenial to youth, which 
feels keenly and permits sympathy and emotion to in- 
terfere with and distort its conclusions. Mejnour has 
outlived these influences. He is passionless, and calm, 
and old. 

Science begins A\dth conjecture, proceeding thence by 
investigation, observation, and deduction, to verify its 
guess. Therefore the Ideal World of the Imaginatioi) 
is included in Mejnour 's sphere of comprehension, and 
when Viola, impelled by her anxiety and trouble, dis- 
obeys her husband's injunction and seeks to behold 






158 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Zanoni and Mejnour, the scene in which they are re- 
vealed to her visualizes the nebular hypothesis, where 
Imagination and Reasoning have a common ground; 
and as all art must be founded on acquired knowledge 
and study, it is Mejnour 's function to school and pre- 
pare the neophyte, and so Glyndon becomes his pupil. 

Glyndon represents Youth, with desires, aspirations, 
and intentions, but imperfect in discipline and averse 
to continued perseverance. From study he is allured 
by pleasure. Affection attracts him, but before its 
power is confirmed he is fascinated by the mysterious, 
and yearns to become higher than his kind. Deficient 
in probity, patience, and faith, he fails to win the re- 
wards he sought, and his sensitiveness to the opinions 
of others subjects him to humiliation and fear, to evade 
which he resorts to dissipation. The nobler possibilities 
which have been disclosed to him, from time to time re- 
call to worthy effort, which fear as continually causes 
him to abandon, and his life is perturbed and harassed 
and unhappy, until he obeys the injunction to return 
to the scenes and friends of childhood, and regain there 
the calm which contrasts ambition, the orderliness re- 
sulting from the discharge of simple duties, and that 
contentment which can only be found by limiting thie 
wants and desires. He whom the world's abuse affects, 
to secure his own peace must retire into obscurity. 

The discipline to which Glyndon is subjected begins 
with obedience, the first duty of youth, and then seeks 
to develop the practice of resisting natural impulses 
and desires. GljTidon is told to "master Nature, not 
lackey her." The attitude toward Nature thus pre- 



ZANONI 159 

scribed is in contradiction to the vague and unsatisfac- 
tory manner in which that Force is usually referred to 
by writers. Nevertheless its correctness has many evi- 
dences. 

The wind blows, rustling the leaves and bending the 
com, and apart from the modification of temperature, 
there ending its usefulness, until man interferes by 
hoisting a sail, and by resisting, derives power to move 
boat or mill. The river hurries along its course, con- 
tributing only music to mankind, until a dam is con- 
structed and its flowing resisted. Then we obtain power 
to move machinery. Currents circled the earth useless- 
ly for ages, until man discovered a method of interfer- 
ing with them. Now by resisting these, electricity is 
harnessed. 

Resisting or mastering Nature has given us most of 
the things we value. Nature seeks to propagate living 
organisms along the lines of the normal. Resisting in- 
terference with her method has given us our domestic 
animals and plants, whose progressive advancement is 
dependent upon man's continued interference. Nature 
impels the boy to play. His teachers interfere, and 
thwart Nature to the boy's gain in discipline and in- 
telligence; and just in proportion to the restraint put 
upon every natural appetite, is the gain in health, 
strength, and development of the individual. He who 
most resists advances the farthest. 

Glyndon failed in resistance, succumbed to tempta- 
tion, and lost the boon he was so anxious to obtain. 

Viola may be interpreted as Human Affection, duti- 
ful, cheerful, and ingenious in contributing to the pleas- 



160 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER ' 

ure of her parents, obedient, trustful, and unaspiring 
as a wife, watchful and suspicious as a mother. The 
mind which seemed so capable of high development in 
the girl, lapses/ to the ordinary in the wife, and becomes 
superstitious in the mother. With the best intentions, 
she thwarts her husband's aims, robs Art of serenity, 
and drags the artist down to the man, exacting more 
than she gives, embarrassing more than she aids, doubt- 
ing instead of trusting, and unthinkingly necessitating 
sacrifices she cannot appreciate until too late. 

The Dweller on the Threshold is that department 
of the periodical press, which, as an instrument of 
Hate, assails all who dare to do something great, and 
strives to blast every worthy fame. It can be placated, 
but only at the cost of debasement. Its attacks can be 
evaded, but only by accepting its counsel, which entails 
deterioration. Its harmful influence .extends to and 
affects friends and familiars, yet it is powerless to in- 
jure if resolutely defied and ignored. It is misshapen 
and bestial, for falsity and distortion are its supports. 
It simulates a human visage, for it affects to be the 
product of human beings. It is veiled because secret, 
and its eyes are its most conspicuous feature, for it 
spies upon every act of him who is advanced beyond 
the ordinary. 

Nicot has his equivalent in any of the numerous de- 
basers of art, who elucidate and approve the mean and 
vile, abuse those whose pursuits are cleanly and lofty, 
call themselves realists, and sometimes display a capac- 
ity to comprehend and praise a trivial achievement or 
some detail of little consequence. 



ZANONI 161 

In grandeur and wholeness of conception, harmony 
of component parts, structural completeness, wisdom 
and beauty of observation and reflection, and sublimity 
of the catastrophe, no work in any form excels this ; and 
in Zanoni, Bulwer created a character than which there 
is none more original and elevated in literature. 

The highest intellectual creations in poetry (tran- 
scending humanity, but accepted as possible) are the 
Prometheus of ^schylus, the Satan of Milton, the 
Mephistopheles of Goethe, and the Zanoni of Bulwer, 

Prometheus the demigod is displayed in a fragment 
only. He endures the punishments inflicted by Zeus, 
knowing that they must terminate, and that death is im- 
possible. He is an august representation of the virtue 
of fortitude. Satan embodies the characteristics of 
pride, baffled and malignant, and for him also death is 
impossible. Mephistopheles is a mockery of man's 
worldly wisdom, producing great effects by trivial 
means, and in the best known first part of Faust his 
supreme achievement is the ruin of a simple girl. Za- 
noni by austerities, stern studies, and self-denial, has ac- 
quired the possibility of continuing his earthly existence 
indefinitely. His life is one of beneficence and inspira- 
tion to others, of calm joy to himself, for he confers at 
will with the beings of a higher world, and is dowered 
with strange powers and understanding. When by ad- 
mitting affection into his life he jeopardizes his priv- 
ileges, he need only await the ordinary course of na- 
ture, and he would outlive love, and reconquer his for- 
mer realm. But oblivious to faults in his human part- 
ner, he subordinates self, and to secure the transient 



162 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

safety and well-being of the wife who deserted him, he 
nobly sacrifices his glorious existence; realizing that 
what his brightest visions disclosed here was but a dim 
shadowing of the glories beyond, where conditions do not 
militate against advancement, and where companionship 
with the beloved is assured. The character of Zanoni, 
the incidents which mark his career, and the death 
which he voluntarily accepts as the end of his earthly 
existence, are alike unique, consistent, and original, and 
place this work amongst the highest of literary produc- 
tions. 

Zanoni was published in 1842, but under the title of 
Zicci a version of the story had previously appeared 
piecemeal in the Monthly Chronicle beginning March, 
1838. In Zicci the description of the musician and his 
home had no place. It commenced with what is now 
the first chapter of the second book, and only advanced 
to the incident of Glyndon's intrusion on Mejnour 
(chapter two, book four). The Monthly Chronicle 
adopted views on the corn laws obnoxious to the opin- 
ions of Bulwer, who thereupon abruptly ended his con- 
nection with the journal, and Zicci remained a fragment 
until in Zanoni the author developed his material into 
the equivalent of an epic. 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 

THE confused and inadequately recorded events 
and movements of the period of the Wars of the 
Roses, treated perfunctorily by older historians, 
and by later writers with that cockiness which distin- 
guishes the person educated at Oxford, receive their first 
and only satisfactory exposition in The Last of the Bar- 
ons, and the information, impartiality, and reasonableness 
of the romancist is in suggestive contrast to the extrava- 
gance of the professional historians who get rid of diffi- 
culties by inebriate hypotheses. When some investigator 
shall undertake the elucidation of times past, unembar- 
rassed by preconceived theory, not necessarily hostile to 
long established beliefs, nor determinedly contemptuous 
of common sense, something trustworthy and of value 
may be forthcoming in a branch of literature where Eng- 
lishmen have not yet distinguished themselves. Until 
then, The Last of the Barons is as indispensable to the 
student of English history as it is charming and stimu- 
lating to the appreciator of art. 

The Wars of the Roses grew out of the arbitrary use 
of power by Queen Margaret and her favorites, who ex- 
ercised and abused the authority of the weak king. The 
barons resisted the attempts at despotism and were sup- 
ported by the people, who were estranged by the im- 
potent and corrupt rule. A change of ministers was 



i?R^. 



164 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

the usual object of the risings, but always occasion was 
quickly found for dismissing the new and reappointing 
the old, and at last it became necessary to change the 
dynasty. 

Long before institutions lose their popularity, the 
qualities men valued in them have disappeared. The 
dignitaries of the church have grown worldly, avar- 
icious, and negligent, before people tire of the church. 
Nobles have become sordid and unworthy before aris- 
tocracy is disliked; and kingliness has departed before 
monarchy becomes distasteful. And it is an easier task 
to establish something substitutional than to restore an 
institution which has once been discredited. 

The Lancastrians having sunk in the general estima- 
tion by persisting in maintaining unpopular ministers in 
their service, were driven from power, and Edward of 
York was installed as king. He proved as objectionable 
as his predecessor, and was dethroned by Warwick, who 
restored Henry. That was the great Earl's fatal mis- 
take. Had he assumed the crown himself, his ability, 
energy, and popularity would have made him a distin- 
guished sovereign, and England would have been spared 
further civil war and saved from the despotism which, 
beginning with Edward IV, was matured under the 
Tudors. As it was, nothing had occurred to justify 
more favorable expectations from the house of Lancaster 
by those who had suffered from it, and the loyal sup- 
porters of that house were suspicious of the new allies. 
Therefore Edward, landing at Ravenspur with few 
friends, by resorting to perjury soon found himself pos- 
sessed of an army, with which he recovered his crown 
by defeating Warwick at Barnet. 



THE LAST OF THE BABONS 165 

Tke last four years of the King-maker's life supply 
the material of The Last of the Barons, and give oc- 
casion for the introduction of historical characters 
whose acts and motives are examined with a determina- 
tion to be just, which results in each portrait being re- 
liable and convincing; for descriptions of the gay court 
of Edward IV, the appearance of London, the pastimes, 
pursuits, and political attachments of its citizens, the 
pomp and bearing of the barons, the evil and shame of 
civil war; and for incidental consideration of the pre- 
vailing disregard for law, the ostentation and greed of 
the church, the suppressed dissatisfaction of the Lol- 
lards, and the prosperity and growing influence of the 
traders. Of costume and the picturesque there is merely 
sufficient. It is the purposes, passions, and minds of the 
personages with which we are made acquainted, and the 
actual sequence of events is adhered to. 

Edward the Fourth is made endurable, notwithstand- 
ing his deceitful, untruthful, and cruel disposition, his 
vicious and intemperate behavior, and his mean aims. 
Personal advantages supplied his only claims to respect. 
Of other qualities he had courage enough to be fero- 
cious, wit enough to cajole shopkeepers, ambition enough 
to impel to emulation of the jackass, and that was all. 
He claimed and obtained credit for victories won under 
the leadership of Hastings and Warwick. Without such 
men, he never even appeared successful; and whenever 
possible he shirked fighting. Many Lancastrian nobles, 
reconciling themselves) to a change of king, transferred 
their allegiance to him in the hope that efficient govern- 
ment would be instituted, but his disreputable court and 
lazy incapacity soon disgusted them, and confirmed their 



166 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

preference for the gentler imbecile as ruler. Hastings 
alone of able men remained constant and satisfied with 
the king, and this arose from their similarity in vicious- 
ness. Some brnte bravery, much ostentation, and ex- 
cessive dissipation gained Edward popularity in his own 
day. His successes and the title of king have influenced 
subsequent judgments in his favor. As a matter of fact, 
he was a bigamist, a perjurer, and a fratricide, and rivals 
in infamy even the brother with whom his evil line ter- 
minated. 

The measures with which Edward identified himself 
were the farcical invasion of France; the adulteration 
of the old nobility ; and the encouragement of the trader 
as a rival in power to the baron. Each of these had a 
selfish origin, and ignored where it did not harm the 
majority of the people. Indeed, the greatest injury to 
the masses results from the power and practices of the 
commercial class. The patricians and the people are 
both patriotic, and their interests are the same, but the 
trader is philanthropic at least in theory, though the 
professed love for humanity at large is more frequently 
an excuse for not doing anything than an incentive to 
wide activities on behalf of mankind. The trader is al- 
ways envious of the class above him, and scornful of 
those below. He uses the latter to gain his own ends, 
but monopolizes all the accruing benefits. He demands 
votes for all in national matters, but is careful to con- 
serve absolute sway over his factories, workshops, and 
newspapers. If his opinions on these things were dis- 
interested, he would give to his employes the right to 
elect their own managers and to scrutinize the balance 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 167 

sheet, for surely that which is good in national affairs 
cannot be bad in lesser things. 

The craft and dissimulation of Gloucester, the Italian 
wile he had mastered and put into practice, the affected 
humility and consideration for others by which he 
masked his vast ambition, his real ability, wisdom, and 
determination, are all bodied forth in the sinister por- 
traiture of the scholar-brother and adviser of Edward. 
Accurate in detail and more discriminating than ordin- 
ary characterizations, there is nevertheless no endeavor 
to render Richard amiable. The impression he arouses 
is still that of one with potentialities and disposition 
likely to justify the evil repute in which his name is gen- 
erally held. 

Warwick is depicted as a, brave warrior and wise 
statesman, whose large father-like heart, dauntless spirit, 
and unfailing generosity endeared him to his own class, 
and made him beloved by every grade of the people ex- 
cept the traders, whose affections he alienated by his un- 
disguised contempt for their meanness of spirit. He 
was constant in his resistance to despotic encroachments 
by the crown, in opposing religious persecution, and in 
promoting the weal of the masses. The brief glimpses 
of his family circle reflect the fact that after St. Albans 
the busy soldier, administrator, and envoy virtually had 
no home life, and are further true in displaying the 
household treason which Clarence's marriage with the 
Lady Isabel introduced there. The personal charm 
which gained his unexampled popularity is indicated by 
the devotion which resulted from his interview with 
Marmaduke. It had more august effects, for he won 



168 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

from Louis XI whatever of affection that monarch was 
capable of feeling. The confidence reposed in his jus- 
tice by the people is evidenced by the alacrity with which 
the insurgents at Olney departed to their homes *'at his 
word." His toleration is shown by the attention he be- 
stowed upon Hilyard ; while his desire for good govern- 
ment and for enduring peace are proofs not alone of 
his love for England and all her people, but of his wis- 
dom and comprehension — for the measures he advo- 
cated were admirably calculated to effect the object de- 
sired. 

His mistakes were all the result of his qualities. Proud 
and patriotic, he eared not for the title of king, but de- 
sired good government. Therefore when Henry and his 
Queen persisted in arbitrary proceedings, he placed Ed- 
ward on the throne; and when the outrages of the new 
king made it necessary to drive him out of the land, he 
tried to replace in power one who had already failed. 
Hot-tempered and magnanimous, he could forgive 
slights, but not a dishonoring insult to his child; and 
therefore he rose against the Tarquin he had kinged. 
Frank and chivalrous, he was above suspecting Clar- 
ence, and so he was deceived and deserted. 

No personage of the time stands out so loftily admir- 
able and clean. The last of the barons was also the 
greatest and purest in conduct, sympathj^, and purpose. 
Ever mindful of the people, he was the kingliest man in 
England, and it was unfortunate that he contented him- 
self with being no more than king-maker. 

The cause of "Warwick 's defection as accepted by Bul- 
wer has ample warrant in the chronicles of Hall and 



THE LAST OF THE BAEONS 169 

others, it is in harmony with the character of Edward. 
It explains as nothing else does the suddenness of the 
change, and the after avoidance of the court by the Lady 
Anne affords it a suggestive support. 

It is customary to ignore the utter worthlessness of 
Edward and to see in his success over Warwick the al- 
leged good of the emergence into importance of the com- 
mercial class — as if the end could justify the means. 
In The Mahabarata there is a myth ascribing the condi- 
tion of the earth to the original sin of a god, whose mis- 
deeds mankind are unconsciously expiating. It is more 
in consonance with this idea that one who was noble, 
wise, and magnanimous should fall, and a mean, false 
profligate triumph. 

The outlaw, Robin of Redesdale, whom travel in Eu- 
rope had made a hater of war and advocate for peace 
before Edward's atrocious cruelty transformed him into 
a daring, active leader of rebels, receives sympathetic 
treatment. All which characterised the representative 
man — the bold deeds and persuasive eloquence of the 
champion of the people — is justly appreciated; but 
where personal animosity obtruded, his proposals are 
condemned. Yet the conditions and experiences which 
made Hilyard a stirrer up of strife are given, if not as 
excuses for his acts, somewhat in justification. Very 
pathetic is the interview after his arrest, which his fol- 
lowers permitted without protest or resistance, when with 
crushed spirit he complains of the ingratitude of man, 
and is comforted by Warwick. And terrible is his 
death, shattered piecemeal while proclaiming that "the 
people are never beaten. ' ' 



170 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

The tuirmltuousness and rapid succession of events 
and complications are relieved by the contrasting ab- 
straction of Adam Warner, and the devotion of his 
daughter Sibyl. Their more passive experiences illus- 
trate the social life, the state of learning, the prevalence 
of superstition, and further show under what adverse 
conditions science was pursued by the scholar, and an 
unselfish life followed by the virtuous, in a masculine 
and violent age, which regarded other knowledge than 
that of warfare as wizardry, love as superfluous weak- 
ness, and woman as a toy, when not a drudge. 

Adam Warner has ceaselessly toiled at the "mechan- 
ical" in which he seeks to develop the idea that has 
become his tyrannical master. Old age has come prema- 
turely, fortune and prospects have been surrendered, 
comforts sacrificed, wife and child neglected and im- 
poverished, yet the task is not completed and he dis- 
covers new needs for which money is requisite ; and his 
means are exhausted. In his intense abstraction he acts 
unjustly to his daughter, and the retributive indignities 
to which he is subjected by his neighbors awake him to 
the thanklessness of those for whose benefit he labors, 
and to the wrong he has done her. A hazardous but 
more manly method of securing the gold he needs is of- 
fered by an enthusiast of another kind. Despising the 
danger, he undertakes the mission which takes him to 
the Tower, to peril, and temptation. A pathway to 
comfort is offered him if he abandons his idea, but he 
prefers poverty with it. At court he finds hindrance, 
not aid; elsewhere only hate. From the powerful earl 
who distrusts the effect of his perfected invention he re- 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 171 

ceives tke sole encouragement and countenance he ever 
enjoys, and when that protector falls on the battle- 
field, the vengeance of the vulgar is meted out to the 
would-be world-betterer, and the "Eureka" and its 
constructor are both destroyed. 

Adam Warner mirrors the fate of genius in every 
age. To labor for man's improvement and receive hate 
in return is the lot of every one who is in advance of his 
time. Outside his own hearth rarely will he find sym- 
pathy, but schemers will seek to use him, fools to pat- 
ronize. By the mean — earth's many — he will be 
treated injuriously, and the reverence of the affectionate 
and admiration of the noble may not avail to save him 
from destruction by the envious and malign. 

In Sibyl is shown devotion, unselfishness, and courage 
in their most beautiful manifestation, for they arise 
from filial affection. Gentle, proud, and cultured, she is 
less concerned about her own hard lot than sad because 
of her father's unhappiness. She humbles herself to 
win bread for him, her faith and sympathy never fail. 
Wooed by young lovers, she clings to him who needs 
her most. Tempted where she loves, she is steadfast; 
and ever in the rare moments when happiness seems 
near, the screeching of the timbrel players dampens her 
joy. It is her mission to prove that woman is nobler 
than man in all matters of duty, and that the fate of re- 
finement is the same as that of genius in a coarse and 
war loving age. Her life, like an heroic poem, is a suc- 
cession of noble examples, and it has an ending as pit- 
eous as that of any tragedy. 

The great achievements in The Last of the Barons in- 



172 PEOSE EOMANCES OF BULWER 

elude the compreliensive epitomization of the various 
characteristics of an involved period, the commanding 
vigor of the active personages, and the simple dignity 
and brave patience of the passive participants in the 
happenings chronicled. The various and obscure move- 
ments of the time have their due importance accorded 
and their effects set forth with clearness. The descrip- 
tion of the battle of Bamet is terse, vigorous, and intel- 
ligible. No more consistently noble hero than "Warwick 
has ever been portrayed, and the embodiments of po- 
etry and science — Sibyl and Adam "Warner — are 
among the highest intellectual characters ever conceived. 
This work was published in January, 1843. Bulwer 
intended it to be the last of his romances, and purposed 
devoting his attention to dramatic productions. But 
the state of the stage, the dearth of capable actors, and 
the absence of the requisite conditions for the efficient 
presentation of plays intended to be performed, con- 
vinced him that further dramatic successes were not 
worth striving for under the existing circumstances, and 
after a four years ' interval he resumed romance writing. 

Richard Neville was born in 1428, and became Earl 
of Warwick in 1449, the year which witnessed the col- 
lapse of the English power in France and the consic- 
quent intensification of the popular feeling against the 
reigning Lancastrian House, to whose mismanagement 
was charged this loss and other evils. The king of Eng- 
land, Henry VI, was meek, pious, and imbecile, and the 
government had been monopolized by the queen, Mar- 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 173 

garet of Anjou, who was detested. The misrule of her 
favorites caused the breaking out of insurrectionary 
movements, that of Cade being one. In another, Suf- 
folk, her chief minister, was caught and slain. In re- 
taliation the Duke of York, the next heir to the throne, 
the special aversion of the Court party, but popular 
with the masses, who had been in a sort of exile in Ire- 
land, was threatened with the charge of treason by the 
queen. This brought matters to a crisis, for York 
crossed from Ireland, gathered his retainers, and 
marched in arms to London, where he expostulated with 
the king on the bad government of the country and the 
injustice of his being barred from his councils. A change 
of ministers resulted, and four years of antagonistic 
manifestos, proclamations, and armed demonstrations. 
Then the king became insane, and the Parliament made 
York protector of the realm. And at this very time, 
after nine years of childlessness, the queen gave birth 
to a son. After an incapacity lasting sixteen months, 
during which the management of affairs was satisfactory, 
Henry recovered. The protector was displaced and the 
queen resumed control, and manifested such hostility to 
York that in self-defense he gathered an army of which 
Warwick, his father Salisbury, and their adherents 
'made part, and at St. Albans the first of the battles of 
the Roses was fought and won by the Yorkists, largely 
through the daring of Warwick, who was first to force 
his way into the town. The victors marched to London 
and secured a change of ministers, which was all they 
desired. Again Henry's mind gave way. Again York 



174 PKOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

was appointed regent, but in a few months the king re- 
covered and relieved him of office, and once more Mar- 
garet ruled, intrigued, and practiced treason. 

Meanwhile Warwick had been made governor of Cal- 
aisi in 1455, to which was added the post of captain to 
guard the sea in 1457. His ability, bravery, and re- 
sourcefulness made him immensely popular. His land 
operations led to a commercial treaty with Flanders. 
He developed a fleet in command of which he displayed 
courage, tenacity, and skill, and made important cap- 
tures. Margaret had dismissed all the other Yorkists, 
but had been satisfied with keeping him out of England. 
Now his achievements attracted her attention and he 
was summoned to London, where a plot to destroy him 
had been arranged. He barely escaped with his life, 
but he got back to Calais. 

The rule of the queen had the realm ' ' out of all good 
governance," and the chief aim of the court appeared 
to be the destruction of the Yorkist party. Movements 
indicating a design against York and Salisbury similar 
to that which so nearly succeeded against Warwick, 
compelled another recourse to arms, and the earl left 
Calais and joined his father. They soon had a large 
army, but their unwillingness to act on the offensive re- 
sulted in wholesale desertions to the Lancastrians, and 
the rout of Ludford compelled the Yorkist leaders to 
flee, York making for Ireland, the earl and his father 
for France. 

In a one-masted fishing-smack which Warwick himself 
steered they ran to Calais, which they reached before 
the arrival of Somerset, who had been sent to supersede 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 175 

Mm. The next four months were occupied in operations 
against the newly-appointed but never installed gov- 
ernor. Then Warwick took his ships to Ireland, in or- 
der to confer with his uncle and arrange their future 
course. A plan was decided upon, and the earl set sail 
again for Calais. A fleet was waiting to intercept him 
in the channel, and "Warwick prepared for fight; but 
the Lancastrians found that the sailors would not arm 
against their old commander, and fearing desertions 
they retired into Dartmouth, and the earl sailed on. 

In accordance with the agreement made in Ireland, 
Warwick and his party crossed to England. They is- 
sued a manifesto setting forth their grievances — the 
weak government, the crushing taxes, the exclusion of 
the king's relations from his council, and other com- 
plaints, and marched to London, their numbers increas- 
ing at every step. At St. Paul's Warwick recited the 
cause of their coming, and made oath of his truth and 
allegiance to the king. Then they moved on North- 
ampton, where the queen's army was arrayed. After 
fruitless negotiations battle began, but treachery among 
the Lancastrians resulted in a Yorkist success after half 
an hour's fighting. Again the victors contented them- 
selves with changing the ministry. When afterwards 
York arrived from Ireland and claimed the throne, War- 
wick resisted, and compelled him to refer the matter to 
Parliament, which decided that Henry should be king 
for life, and that York should succeed him, thus setting 
aside the queen and her son. 

At once Margaret stirred up the Scots to invade Eng- 
land, and summoned her party to arms, and York and 



176 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Salisbury had to hurry to the North to meet and dis- 
perse the gathering. The queen's army was far larger 
than they had anticipated. They were themselves as- 
sailed and defeated, and both lost their lives. 

"With an army of forty thousand flushed with victory, 
and looting everywhere, Margaret proceeded southward. 
Warwick had to assume the direction of the government, 
and also provide for the safety of his party. He marched 
to St. Albans. Being outnumbered, and desertions caus- 
ing dismay among his followers, he was beaten by the 
Lancastrians and retreated westward, whence reenforce- 
ments were on their way. Edward of March (after- 
wards Edward IV), accompanied by Hastings, after a 
fight at Mortimer's Cross, was leading an army from 
Wales, and at Chipping Norton he and Warwick met, 
and together marched on London, which the Lancastrians 
had not occupied. There Edward was crowned king. 
As soon as the festivities were concluded, the Yorkists 
hastened against their enemy. The armies met at Tow- 
ton, and there the most desperate and sanguinary battle 
of the war took place. The Yorkists won, and the count 
of the dead showed that nearly thirty thousand had fal- 
len, of whom eight thousand — one in six — were of 
their own side. In the battle "the greatest press lay 
on the quarter where the Earl of Warwick stood," and 
it fell to his lot to disperse the straggling foe and sub- 
jugate the north, which with the assistance of his brother 
Montagu he effected after months of hard campaigning. 

Then Warwick was able to turn to statesmanship. He 
urged a treaty of peace with Prance, a farseeing meas- 
ure he had long had at heart, which might be cemented 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 177 

by Edward's marriage with a French, princess. To the 
council met to approve these negotiations the king sub- 
mitted one objection. He had already married Eliza- 
beth "Woodville. Warwick, vexed and annoyed, dropped 
for a time the proposed embassy to France, but in 1465 
he secured the agreement of Louis XI to a truce of 
eighteen months. 

In 1467 (when The Last of the BaroTis opens), 
"Warwick was sent to France to turn this truce into a 
permanent peace. Edward's apparently honorable 
commission was either intended to get the earl out of the 
way, while he himself consummated other and hostile 
plans, or events turned it to that purpose. For during 
his envoy's absence Edward concluded a treaty with 
Burgundy, and promised the hand of his sister to Count 
Charles. When Wainvick returned, he found his em- 
bassy thus dishonored, and his plans foiled. He was 
forty year^ of age. He had trained and made Edward. 
By land and sea, in council and on the field, he had so 
labored that activity had become the habit of his life, 
and he now found that the king for whom he had done 
so much was capable of man's meanest vice, ingratitude, 
and that his services were unwelcome. He retired to 
his castle of Middleham. 

But Warwick was the best beloved man in the king- 
dom, and the Woodvilles, whom the king was bent on 
advancing, were generally disliked. Risings of aggrieved 
Yorkists broke out, and the Lancastrians became busy 
everywhere. To divert the attention of the people from 
affairs at home, Edward projected another war with 
France; and to strengthen himself with the nobles, he 



178 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

induced Warwick's brother to bring about a reconcilia- 
tion with the earl. But confidence was gone forever, 
and the king's efforts to prevent the marriage of Clar- 
ence with Warwick 's daughter was another affront. The 
earl resumed his life at Calais. Insurrections became 
common in England and grew so formidable that Ed- 
ward, finding himself in danger, wrote supplicatingly 
for the earl's aid. In response Warwick came, put down 
one revolt "by his word," crushed another on the bor- 
ders, and made the king secure. Edward now spoke of 
the earl and his brother as his best friends, and be- 
trothed his eldest daughter to Warwick's nephew, the 
male heir of the family. 

Three months afterward the earl became a rebel, 
stern, determined, and implacable. The time was the 
very worst that could have been chosen, and shows that 
preparations and forethought had no part in the change. 
AH we know of the earl shows him as a man of "unde- 
signing frankness and openness" ; and it is not consistent 
with human nature that one whose every day had been 
given to active operations should in his maturity trans- 
form himself into a dissimulating plotter. Had he de- 
sired the dethronement of Edward, it was only neces- 
sary for him to have abstained from interference when 
Edward. was in jeopardy from the army under Coniers. 
But it was not until after he had relieved the king by 
dismissing the hostile army that any dissatisfaction 
with Edward was manifested. An insurrection occurred 
in Lincolnshire. The king defeated it, and then an- 
nounced that the confession of the ringleader — a Lan- 



THE LAST OF THE BARONS 179 

castrian — implicated Warwick as the instigator of the 
rising; and declaring the earl and Clarence traitors Ed- 
ward moved his army to effect their arrest. Warwick 
and his family fled to France, and the king was seem- 
ingly freed from danger. 

Louis XI brought about an alliance between the earl 
and Margaret, articles of marriage were signed between 
the Prince of Wales and the Lady Anne, and presently 
Warwick landed in England, where he found the shores 
crowded with armed men ready to welcome him. He 
hastened with his army toward the king. Near Notting- 
ham they came together. In the night desertions from 
Edward's army compelled him, to fly with a few follow- 
ers. He found refuge in Burgundy ; and within eleven 
days of his landing Warwick was master of England, 
had replaced Henry on the throne, and summoned a 
new Parliament. 

The restoration was popular, save with the Yorkist 
nobles, the traders of London, and Clarence. Unsus- 
pected by Warwick his son-in-law was intriguing and 
corresponding with Edward. The earl made watchful 
dispositions for resisting any hostile landing, but Ed- 
ward with five hundred men, disembarking at Raven- 
spur where preparations had not been made, and send- 
ing messengers to say to the people that he came not to 
dispossess King Henry but to claim his own duchy, and 
protesting and taking oath that ' ' he never would again 
take upon himself to be king of England," he was al- 
lowed to proceed, gathering troops all the while. Mont- 
agu, misled by a letter from Clarence, forbore to dis- 



180 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

pute Edward's progress, and he readied Nottingham, 
where others joined him, and then throwing aside pre- 
tense he had himself proclaimed king. 

Warwick gathered his forces hurriedly and marched 
to meet his foes. Near Banbury Clarence deserted to 
the king with his men, and sent offering terms to the 
earl. "Warwick drove the messenger's away, and 
"thanked God he was himself and hot that traitor 
duke. ' ' But his army thus lessened, he was not strong 
enough to engage the man whom he had schooled, and 
whom Hastings guided, and it was necessary to wait for 
reenforcements. EdM^ard meanwhile occupied London, 
whence with added numbers he advanced, and at Barnet 
the armies met. Every accident favored the king, the 
saddest being that Oxford's forces were mistaken in the 
fog and fired upon, causing the cry of treason, and the 
flight of his troops. In the end Edward triumphed, 
"Warwick and his brother Montagu perishing on the 
field. 



LUCRETIA 

THE records of two criminal careers of unusual 
character (for the ^ilty persons were of more 
than ordinary cultivation and attainments, and 
their acts atrocious in the extreme, and long continued) 
came into Bulwer's hands, and proved so absorbingly 
interesting that they caused him to forego his intention 
of writing a play which he had long meditated, and to 
compose this work instead. 

The phenomena of criminality have attracted atten- 
tion in all ages. From the remotest past habitual wrong- 
doers have been recognized as a class, possessing definite 
characteristics. When Homer describes Thersites as de- 
formed, with scant hair and a pointed head, he shows 
that a type of being from whom anti-social acts were to 
be expected was distinguished at the time when Hellenic 
civilization was in the making. Vidoeq asserted that he 
could always tell a criminal by his eye. Lombroso ex- 
hibited to thirty-two children twenty pictures of thieves 
and twenty of eminent men of character, and found that 
eighty per cent of the children were able to discriminate 
between the bad and the good. Through all time the 
likelihood of evil deeds has been indicated by evil looks, 
and a type of beings with something forbidding in ap- 
pearance which causes mankind to beware, has always 
formed a class in the community. 



182 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

But all criminals do not conform to this type. Ever 
and again we find in a person convicted of crime, one pos- 
sessed of acquirements which rightly exercised would 
have won him honor and respect. The persons whose 
histories so engrossed Bulwer combined intellectual cul- 
tivation and prepossessing appearance with viciousness 
of conduct. They had but to be honest to succeed, and 
perseverance would have made them blessings to their 
race, but they preferred to traverse crooked ways, and 
to regard society as their prey. In his search for the 
cause of such grievous perversion of talents and advan- 
tages, he became convinced that the starting point of 
careers of guilt could be found in the nonrecognition of 
some important truths which he thus enumerated : 

' ' I hold that the greatest friend of man is labour, that 
knowledge without toil, if possible, were worthless ; that 
toil in pursuit of knowledge is the best knowledge we 
can attain ; that the continuous effort for fame is nobler 
than fame itself ; that it is not wealth suddenly acquired 
which is deserving of homage, but the virtues which a 
man exercises in the slow pursuit of wealth, the abilities 
so called forth, the self-denials so imposed; in a word, 
that Labour and Patience are the true schoolmasters on 
earth. ' ' 

Lucretia is based on the materials furnished by the 
histories of these children of night, and embodies the re- 
sult of its author's study of their lives, their motives, 
their characteristics, and their fates. In the course of 
his exposition he shows the evil wrought by neglectful 
or mischievous early training, the demoralizing results 



LUCRETIA 183 

of the "vice of impatience," and the corruption caused 
by the desire for and pursuit of rapid wealth. But 
these lessons are slight and incidental in comparison to 
the truths most terribly enforced — that intellect and 
criminality are eternally antagonistic, and that igno- 
minious ruin inevitably engulfs those who debase in- 
telligence to guilt. 

The story is in two parts, each having a prologue and 
epilogue, with an interval of twenty-seven years between 
the parts. After the first prologue, which displays Dali- 
bard's heartless malignity and the early mistraining of 
Varney, the old English home of Laughton Hall with 
its master and his friends is described — Sir Miles, an 
accomplished survival of Chesterfieldian days; Charles 
Vernon, a predecessor of the later dandy; Dalibard, 
who has become librarian and tutor at Laughton ; Var- 
ney; and Lucretia Clavering, the niece and destined 
heiress of Sir Miles St. John. 

Dalibard, Varney, and Lucretia are the formidable 
three, whose schemes, intrigues, and the resulting conse- 
quences supply the incidents of the narrative, and whose 
characters are elaborated, analyzed, and (especially in 
the instance of Lucretia) exposed with careful particu- 
larization. They are incarnations of egotism pushed to 
the extreme. Each perverts intellect to base purposes, 
each fails when success seems assured, each is punished 
in the sin most favored; and throughout the recital of 
their deeds, with stem purpose the author refrains from 
ever invoking pity on their behalf. Awe rising to terror 
is inspired by their devious actions, and attention is en- 



184 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

grossed to the end ; but nothing ever minimizes the enor- 
mity of their guilt, or gives occasion for commiseration 
of their fate. 

Lueretia is the darling of a fond and affectionate 
uncle, who dotes on her the more because her imperious- 
ness and vehement temper render her unmanageable by 
anyone but himself. She has habitually mixed with the 
baronet's friends, all older than herself; and, her educa- 
tion has been guided by Dalibard, who has taught her to 
suppress the manifestation of temper, to seem rather 
than to be, and to value and cultivate intellect to the ex- 
clusion of all amiable qualities. 

When Goethe describes the steps in the ruin of Mar- 
garet, that wise observer shows that trustful affection 
for her mother, reverence for the church, and fear of 
God, three sentiments which have grown with her 
growth, must be weakened and confused before the girl 
becomes responsive to Faust's advances. Lueretia was 
motherless, and Dalibard 's teachings were subversive of 
religion and ignored the Deity. That she had none of 
the anchors which attach the ordinary young girl to 
righteousness was due to her unwise training: and in 
her pride of intellect, which impelled to scheme and in- 
trigue, there lurked a more subtle incentive to evil than 
even Faust's familiar. She repays her uncle's care and 
tenderness by grudging his few remaining days and 
watching for his death, for she has planned to wed one 
whom Sir Miles never would consent to receive into his 
family. Until her inheritance is secure, she seeks to 
delude and deceive him. 

Sir Miles has been kind rather than watchful; an in- 



LUCRETIA 185 

dulgent guardian, not a wise one. Hence the latent 
justice which allows grief and disappointment to em- 
bitter his last days and hasten his death ; for the old man, 
who has gloried in the queenliness of his niece, learns 
that she had abused his faith, and in calculating consid- 
eration of his life as something in her way, had counted 
the sands in his hourglass, and met his frank purposes 
with secret schemes and treachery. After that there is 
nothing left for him but to alter his will, and hasten out 
of life. 

The marriage for which Lucretia had practiced house- 
hold treason with such heavy loss, is frustrated through 
the machinations of Dalibard, who so arranges matters 
that the person for whom she had sacrificed so much is 
displayed and exposed as the lover of her sister, a false, 
weak, and forsworn man, whom she humiliates, releases 
from his engagement, and leaves in scorn. 

Friendless, lone, and undone, she has no refuge now 
save Dalibard, whom brightening prospects attract to 
his native land. Lucretia becomes his bride and accom- 
panies him to France. Scheming ever, Dalibard ad- 
vances in position and toward power until his wife is in 
his way, and then he plots to remove her. Lucretia be- 
comes aware that her fearful husband is bent on her 
destruction, and that another is to have her place. 
Roused to energy by danger, her counterplot brings 
about Dalibard 's assassination. The desecrator of 
hearths and betrayer of trusts is butchered in his own 
home by the dupe he had despised. 

Lucretia returns to England and visits her sister, 
now married to Mainwaring. They regard her visit as 



186 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

evidence of ker forgiveness. She finds them happy, 
honored, prosperous ; but her errand is one of vengeance, 
and when she leaves them their reputation, prospects, 
and home have all been wrecked. 

The punishment of her recreant lover accomplished, 
Lucretia is without further object in life, and in the 
calm which ensues conscience troubles her, and she 
yearns for something she can believe, or someone she 
could trust. A religious sect, whose adherents seemed 
austere in their lives, confident in their absolution, and 
certain of their heaven, attracts her and she tries to be- 
lieve with a like earnestness. One of its members, a 
strong, eloquent man, ingratiates himself, and she mar- 
ries him; and gradually learns that the pretended saint 
is a hypocrite and deceiver. Recriminations provoke 
violence; she gives birth to a son; the father thwarts 
her plans and wishes; and she resorts to the means for- 
merly used by Dalibard, of which she had possessed her- 
self — essences which slay but leave no trace. The hus- 
band fears and hates his wife, and realizing that his 
days are numbered arranges to deprive her of their 
child, and disposes of it so effectually that all Lucretia 's 
efforts and wanderings and enquiries are futile. Im- 
poverished and hopeless, she is compelled to give up her 
search in reluctant despair. Her unstable visions of re- 
form thus shattered, she no longer believes in good, but 
becomes merciless and ruthless. Joining with Varney, 
she plans and aidsi in the execution of a succession of 
frauds which defy detection and evade all punishment, 
and which lead them to and fro over Europe like wan- 
dering devastations. Suddenly Varney learns that 



LUCRETIA 187 

there are but two lives between Lucretia's son and the 
Laughton estates, and they return to England resolved 
to remove the obstacles and secure the inheritance. 

Feigning an infirmity that would mock all suspicion, 
Lucretia establishes herself in a dull house, and claims 
the guardianship of her niece, Helen, who thereupon 
comes to live with her. An attorney is employed in a 
renewed search for her missing son. Varney meanwhile 
maJies the acquaintance of Percival; and thus the two 
obnoxious lives are at their mercy, and their plans only 
halt until Lucretia recovers her son. Matters are facil- 
itated by an attachment which develops between Per- 
cival and Helen, which leads the young heir to invite 
the aunt of his betrothed to accompany her ward, and 
revisit Laughton. 

Again in the old hall, from whence her duplicity had 
caused her banishment, Lucretia proceeds to complete 
her design. From her couch at night the pretended 
paralytic rises, selects from the products of Dalibard's 
chemistry the agent most fitting for her purpose, and 
steals to Helen's room. A new groom, unseen himself, 
sees the flitting form, quickly becomes suspicious, and 
resolves to play the spy. Next morning news arrives 
that Lucretia's son is found and will be at Laughton 
the following day; and that Percival 's guardian is al- 
ready on his way thither. Haste becomes imperative 
now. Lucretia and Varney arrange the last details and 
destroy everything that might incriminate, save a large 
ring, the masterpiece of Dalibard's art, which conceals 
a poison having no antidote, and which Lucretia retains. 
The spying groom has heard all their conversation and 



188 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

knows tiieir guilt, but in stealing from behind the cur- 
tain where he had hidden, he is seen by Lueretia, who 
rises and seizes him. He strives to effect his release, 
and she touches him with the fatal ring, and too weak 
to resist further, allows him to go, then warns Varney 
to hasten after and secure him till the poison does its 
work. Varney never overtakes the groom, but he has 
the mortification to see him stagger into the carriage 
which is bearing Percival's guardian to Laughton. 

Lueretia meanwhile awaits her son. From the un- 
dutiful thought, through acts of duplicity, schemes of 
spoliation, and plans for aggrandizement that regarded 
not human life, to the very verge of success in the dar- 
ing project which promised the restoration of the Laugh- 
ton estates, her course has been traced ; all former perils 
have been evaded, every law baffled. Danger is present 
now, but it daunts her not. A groom denounces her as 
a murderess, but the charge appals her not. Her son is 
found, for him she asks. A few words of explanation; 
and then death would be a merciful boon, for she dis- 
covers that the accusing menial is that son, and knows 
herself his murderess; and with the laugh that rose as 
Beck died, fled forever the reason of Lueretia. Hence- 
forth she who had prided herself on her intellect, her 
station, and her freedom is nameless and unknown, the 
forgotten and neglected inmate of a madhouse. 

Lueretia is a masterpiece in construction. The period 
of time embraces two generations, and carries some of 
the characters from youth to maturity. The changes 
made by the years are shown in every case. Incident 



LUCRETIA 189 

follows incident with ever-accelerated speed, until the 
weaving of the plot to recover Laughton. Then in 
a retrospect, the happenings of the twenty-seven years' 
interval are conmiiinicated ; after which the clews to 
Vincent's whereabouts become more certain, the rising 
of the pretended cripple indicates some more unusual 
deed, and suspense is intensified; while the search for 
Lucretia's son on the one hand, and the interference of 
a foe on the other, are completed in the discovery that 
son and foe are one. An epilogue relates the after fate 
of the various personages. 

There are passages in the work which are eloquent, 
others that are tender, but there is not a trace of levity ; 
a fervid earnestness pervades the whole. 

Lucretia's search for her son furnishes an example of 
that irony of situation which gives such poignant inter- 
est to the story of Oedypus as treated by Aeschylus and 
Sophocles, and in the mother's fluctuating emotion as the 
unravelment of the tangled clues progresses — eager an- 
ticipation, fierce joy, chilling disappointment, complet- 
ed in the tremendous horror of the identification, the 
modern poet has equalled the giant ancients. 

Two of the scenes are of tremendous intensity — 
where Lucretia discovers the falseness of her betrothed, 
and where she recovers her son. Other parts, such as 
the description of the progress of starbeam and moon- 
beam through the windows and rooms of the old hall, 
are as lyric-like as the choruses of an Athenian drama. 
And though every detail concerning the three is som- 
bre, there are several admirable characters, and the 



190 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

chapters in which, these appear are bright and stimu- 
lating and arouse different feelings from those called 
forth by the deeds of Lucretia and her fell allies. 

The physiognomical descriptions are sufficiently mi- 
nute to enable us to comprehend the general principles 
which guided Bulwer's determinations. Intellect he 
assigns to the forehead and eyebrows, breadth indicating 
the capacity to understand, height the ability to put 
knowledge to use. To the eyes, nose, and mouth char- 
acter is allotted, while will pertains to the chin and jaw. 
Dalibard's skull, compared with his visage, is dispro- 
portionately large. Lucretia looks aslant, has a Gre- 
cian profile, the thin lips of the spiteful, the firm mouth 
of the determined. Mouth and chin hidden, her ex- 
pression is changed, for will is strong, but character un- 
determined. 

The distrust which accompanied the first impression 
formed of Lucretia, which disappeared on further ac- 
quaintance, arose from our instinctively building up a 
series of judgments of individuals, beginning with child- 
hood familiars and continuing through life, and me- 
chanically comparing every new face with these remem- 
brances, and placing each in its class. But mature peo- 
ple hide their real character with more or less success; 
and often, with repeated intercourse, the assumed agree- 
ableness dispels the instinctive aversion. 

In Zanoni Bulwer made plain his right to a position 
on one of the twin heights of the Forked Parnassus, and 
in Lucretia he established his place on the other. The 
one is a surpassing revelation of the Heroic, the other 
his supreme achievement in the Tragic. Apart from 



LUCRETIA 191 

form Lucretia is a tragedy, and form is largely dictated 
by the fashion of the period. He who in Elizabeth's 
reign produced plays, would in the days of Victoria 
write romances, for the popular demand to which the 
artist necessarily ministers called for plays in the one 
age, and for romances in the other. The dominant char- 
acteristic of tragedy is warning ; and Lucretia is a sus- 
tained warning against impatience, coveteousness, and 
selfseeking. Nor is there any drama in which greater 
consistency is maintained in the characters, or more or- 
iginality and power displayed in the incidents and situ- 
ations; while in avoiding all superhuman agencies as 
influences on conduct, and in refraining from invoking 
pity for the offenders, Lucretia- stands alone. 

The work appeared in 1846. Its publication aroused 
a storm of virulent abuse in the newspapers and reviews. 
This arose from the original of Varney having been a 
contributor to the periodical press widely known among 
his class, who resented the depiction of their fellow and 
were indignant at the exposition because startled, and 
wincing at the lessons of the guilt. 

Bulwer had come to regard contemporary English 
criticism with unalloyed contempt. The fulminations 
against Lucretia he deemed undeserving of any notice; 
but a general claim that crime ought not to be used as 
material for literary purposes showed an ignorance so 
gross, that in "A Word to the Public" he issued a pam- 
phlet which is the most elaborate exposition on the ma- 
terials of tragedy ever produced. 



HAROLD 

THE battle of Hastings, which changed the dynasty 
and the destiny of England, is the catastrophe of 
this work. The happenings of the fourteen years 
which preceded and prepared the way for the Norman 
conquest are here comprehensively and concisely related, 
history being elucidated by romance, not distorted to its 
service. A gallery of portraits of the great figures of the 
period is presented ; the condition of the several peoples 
shown; their varying wellbeing, superstitions, culture, 
and customs noted; and the actual events described in 
their proper order and sequence. From the contradictory 
and confused chronicles of the time a consistent narra- 
tive is evolved, a realization of the personages developed, 
and an understanding of their motives in the several 
circumstances wherein they appeared sought for. Hence 
the characters conform to history, and also to human 
nature. 

The Norman conquest began with the reign of Ed- 
ward the Confessor, whose leanings Normanward led 
him to surround his court with, and make frequent 
grants of lands and privileges to, outland favorites, 
some of whom became so arbitrary in their conduct as 
to enrage the Saxons, and cause the expulsion of the 
Normans from the court. 

Godwin, the sagacious, practical minister of a dream- 



HAROLD 193 

ing king, more patriotic than his master, endeavored to 
check the infatuate tendencies of the monarch, and this 
led to his outlawry, and a temporary triumph of his 
foes. But Godwin had the sympathy of nearly all Eng- 
land. With his six sons he returned in arms, demanded 
and obtained a trial, was acquitted, inlawed, and re- 
stored to his former power. Shortly thereafter he died, 
and Harold succeeded to his father's earldom and influ- 
ence, becoming practically the deputy of the king, man- 
aging affairs, leading in war, and guiding the realm. 
By-and-by, seeing the increasing infirmities of the Con- 
fessor, the earl became aware that the throne was within 
his reach. 

In the hope of securing the support of William, Har- 
old visited the Norman court ; but he was deceived and 
tricked by that unscrupulous schemer, who, claiming 
that Edward had offered him the succession, extorted 
from his guest a promise under oath to help the Norman 
to the English throne. The mission, from which favor- 
able results had been anticipated, produced humiliation, 
entanglement, and ultimately disaster. 

There were other untoward circumstances. In the 
pacification of Northumbria, the turbulent Tostig was 
deprived of that earldom, and thereby made his brother's 
enemy. And in the campaign against Grifiith, the dras- 
tic measures of Harold drove multitudes of the Welsh 
to Brittany, whence, as part of William's invading army, 
they afterwards returned. 

When Edward died, there was no other Saxon of suf- 
ficiently commanding ability or populai'ity to compete 
with Harold, and he was crowned king, January 6, 1066, 



194 PROSE EOMANCES OF BULWER 

He at once busied himself with measures to lessen taxa- 
tion, to conciliate the church, to strengthen the army, 
protect the coasts, and guard against the threatened in- 
vasion of the Normans. In September, Harold Hard- 
rada, stirred to the enterprise by Tostig, landed in 
Northumbria with a formidable army, intent upon con- 
quering England, and Harold had to abandon his pre- 
ventive preparations and march to York, raising levies 
on the way. At Stamford Bridge he defeated the Nor- 
wegians. It was a glorious victory. They came in a 
thousand ships, they went back with twenty-four. But 
ere the slain were buried the Normans landed at Peven- 
sey, and Harold and his army were called to the south 
to meet another invader. 

On October 14, 1066, the Saxons and Normans met. 
Harold had no time for construction work, but he chose 
his ground well, and a concealed ditch was made. His 
army formed the shield- wall, shaped like a wedge — the 
heavily-armed, shield to shield and shoulder to shoulder, 
in the front. All the forces of the Normans availed 
nothing while this formation was maintained. Charges 
by horsemen and attacks by archers made with the inten- 
tion of galling the Saxons into breaking their wall, were 
ineffectual until "William's oft-rehearsed feint of a gen- 
eral and confused retreat was resorted to, and the Sax- 
ons were seduced into pursuit. But a part of the ruse 
was a concealed body of horsemen, who now becoming 
active, rode among the Saxons and prevented their re- 
forming, while the rest of the Normans, abandoning 
their pretended retreat, and no longer balked by the 
shield wall, defeated and destroyed the trapped Saxons. 



HAROLD 195 

In Harold Saxon England of the eleventh, century is 
presented to us, not an organic whole, with an homo- 
geneous people, but a congeries of earldoms inhabited 
by Kymrians, Norsemen, Saxons, and their derivatives, 
loosely connected, and only held together by command- 
ing ability. Each was animated by intense local pa- 
triotism, but comparatively indifferent to the misfor- 
tunes of its neighbors, and all had racial prejudicesi, 
which interfered with or prevented united action in a 
common cause. Men rose rapidly to high station from 
lowly beginnings, for the qualification necessary for ad- 
vancement was not name, lineage, or beneficence, but 
the possession of wealth. The general well-being was 
high, and the constitutional liberty large. The people 
were brave, reverent of law, and intolerant of oppres- 
sion, but they were also impatient of control, incapable 
of continued vigilance in guarding the kingdom, averse 
to additions to its natural defenses, and unwilling to pro- 
vide for emergencies regarded as too remote to deserve 
attention. A monkish king and a selfish priesthood had 
combined to produce and spread lethargy and careless- 
ness. Education was neglected, the church owned one- 
third of the land, and everything indicated the need of 
strong rule, and renovation. 

Harold is depicted as patient, steadfast, dauntless; 
powerful in the field, just and wise in council ; the most 
conspicuous and admirable figure of his time, winning 
renown and affection by his successes in the various 
tasks which crowded his busy life, one whom a strong 
sense of duty guided in conduct and intention, until 
nearness to the throne beguiled him into ambition, when 



196 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

calculation and conciliation were practiced, and policy 
took the place of duty. 

Grouped around the commanding form of Harold are 
the members of his own family — the successful God- 
win, the loyal Gurth, the passion-riven Sweyn, the fierce 
Tostig, the gay Leofwine, the foredoomed Haco, and a 
varied throng of characters whose originals figure in the 
history of which they were part. And as grand and 
impressive as any, but having no mention in other chron- 
icle than this, the haughty and lone Hilda, the desolate 
descendant of kings, clinging to old-time customs, wor- 
shiper of pagan gods, whose galdra influenced those in 
whom desire was strong. For rarely is ambition wary, 
and easily is it stimulated by prediction or omen, and 
more than other passions is it prone to avail itself of 
questionable aids. 

Hilda represents that pagan belief which had numer- 
ous adherents in every part of England, notwithstand- 
ing the professed conversion to Christianity of over- 
lords and earls. Heathenesse was not confined to the 
lower classes; few of its votaries were as debased and 
selfish as the majority of Christian priests. But in cre- 
ating Hilda, Bulwer had the further purpose of warn- 
ing against credulous acceptance of the apparently su- 
pernatural. Every use of this agency by him carries 
this lesson: always the oracular utterances have an un- 
happy fulfillment, contrary to the expectation founded 
upon them. He had studied the subject in its modern 
as well as its ancient forms, and his reiterated warnings 
convey not only his opinion, but the result of experience. 

Dissimulating, wary and cruel, save to his children, 



HAROLD 197 

whom he indulged and spoilt, lacking the finer qualities 
of the Norman knighthood, but seeing far, and working 
steadily in the direction of a long meditated purpose, 
the Count of the Normans is shown in every phase of 
his character — adroit in dealing with his nobles, crafty 
in his behavior to Harold, prescient in his discern- 
ment of the weakness of England, masterful in sup- 
pressing revolt, energetic in ruling his duchy, and politic 
in fostering the church and encouraging education. 
Systematizing everything, and reducing all to order, he 
produced a chivalrous nobility and an eager priesthood 
at the expense of the tillers of the soil. The soldiers ac- 
quired polish and refinement, the serfs were degraded 
and embruited. And when the time was come, with the 
chivalry and the church as his supports, he gathered ad- 
herents, launched his ships, descended on England, and 
won a kingdom. At Hastings Democracy went down 
before Aristocracy. Rigorous organization, which dis- 
dained the multitude and entrusted power only to the 
nobles, obtained the victory over a people who, placing 
a greater value upon liberty than on duty, failed to 
muster to the assistance of Harold, and deserved the 
punishment which followed. 

Harold is compacted of stirring incidents. The tragic 
failure at Hastings was preceded by successes against 
widely different antagonists. At Stamford Bridge, 
Hardrada, the hero of wondrous adventures, the Poet- 
Titan, with the scalds' love of song and Vikings' lust 
for war, was defeated and slain; and in the campaign 
in Wales — a minor epic within a larger one — the son 
of Pendragon was driven, inch by inch, to his fatal ey- 



198 PROSE EOMANCES OF BULWER 

rie. These actions with their attendant circumstances 
give occasion for rapid descriptions and varied charac- 
terizations. Apart from the battles, there are many- 
fine achievements in the book, notably the reproduction 
of the scene in the Witan, where Godwin secured the 
reversal of his outlawry. The work is accurate in detail 
and gives an insight into conditions, an intelligible ex- 
planation of motives, and a discerning survey of the 
various causes contributing to the catastrophe. "While 
portraying a grand hero in a noble manner, it also il- 
luminates a period. 

That progressive national deterioration which is called 
the growth of democracy had assumed portentous pro- 
portions in England in 1848. The one extreme of en- 
trusting governmental power to the untrained and im- 
perfectly educated masses is more undesirable than the 
other extreme of autocratic rule, for the latter is usually 
accompanied by intellect and has often succeeded in ad- 
vancing a people in civilization, culture, and conduct, 
but democratic rule, because of the preponderating num- 
bers of its least intelligent constituents, has never 
achieved anything higher than equivocal material wel- 
fare — equivocal because secured through agencies which 
in their organization repudiate democracy, and because 
the gains are concentrated in the commercial class and 
its alHes instead of being generally diffused, and the 
nation that can only boast of its commercial success has 
no stronger claim to general respect than has the indi- 
vidual who is rich but vulgar. 

Democratic rule is potent to destroy, but it has not 
demonstrated its ability to construct. It obtains favor- 



HAROLD 199 

able regard and encouragement because of the general 
belief in tbe fallacious proposition tbat all are interested 
in good government. As a matter of fact some are in- 
terested in bad government and these by combining their 
activities usually secure power, dictate policy, and con- 
trol administration. 

The best governed nation is that which avails itself 
of the services of its best men, but Gresham's law ap- 
plies to parliamentarians as well as to money, and when 
lawyers, half-breeds, and squaw-men are irrupted into 
the councils of a nation, gentlemen abandon statesman- 
ship, and representatives presently degenerate into del- 
egates. 

Bulwer's recognition of the imminence of govern- 
mental domination by the masses, impelled him to set 
before his countrymen the picture of a calamitous con- 
flict between democracy and aristocracy once waged in 
their native land and to display by example the inad- 
equacy of democratic rule to cope with invasion or to ac- 
complish any real constructive improvements in the 
realm, its institutions, or its people. These lessons are 
quite subsidiary to the general purpose of Harold but 
the need of them suggested the romance. 

One lesson, merely glanced at in Harold, calls for fur- 
ther comment. 

The importance of race, though now generally disre- 
garded, has been acknowledged in all ages, and the 
people, by whom sentiments, institutions, and proverbial 
knowledge are cherished and retained long after the 
higher social ranks have abandoned or forgotten them, 
still regard mixture of race with disdain. In stock- 



200 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

raising great care is exercised in this regard, and it is 
recognized that the mixture of two breeds does not give 
the equivalent of either, but is a new start toward an- 
other variety, and from a lower level — that at least 
five generations are necessary to establish a breed; and 
that where crossment is resorted to the undesirable qual- 
ities of the parents are emphasized in the progeny, di- 
minishing in degree with each generation, until in the 
fifth the benefit of the blend becomes apparent. 

Man differs not in this regard from the domesticated 
animals. The mixing of the Caucasian and the Negro 
produces a creature which both races distrust and avoid. 
The red Indian blended with the Frenchman results in 
a devil. The Eurasian is the despair of all who come 
in contact with him. And in races more nearly allied 
the first effect of crossment is mischievous. The com- 
plete amalgamation may be an improvement, but not 
until after five generations is any good result assured, 
and the intervening period is one of peril. 

The history of every country shows this evil, and 
England supplies repeated evidence of its certainty. 
The Kymrian natives, weakened by the Roman invasion 
and the wars with the Picts, fell a prey to the Saxons, 
who killed off the fighting men, reduced the submissive 
to serfdom, and married the women. This so effemin- 
ized the next generation that its resistance to the Scan- 
dinavians was ineffectual, and these intruders similarly 
destroyed the fighters and appropriated the women, pro- 
ducing a further weakened people whom the Normans 
defeated and subdued. But under the strong rule of 
the conquerors, hostile invasions were impossible. France 



HAEOLD 201 

became the theatre of war, while in England, the blend- 
ing of the bloods proceeding, there emerged in Plan- 
tagenet times a splendid race, which became in Tudor 
days a grand one. 

With Elizabeth's death and the Stuart accession, adul- 
terations with Scottish blood began. The qualities at- 
tributable to the English are mainly physical, the Scot 
has the faculty of thinking; therefore the blend is a 
desirable one, but its early products are the most des- 
picable creatures in English annals. However, in time 
fusion was accomplished, and a fine race arose, which 
in contests on many a field gave a good account of it- 
self, and which added distinguished names to the rolls 
of War, Philosophy, Art, and Literature. Later the ad- 
mixture with the Irish commenced. It is yet in its early 
stages, but deterioration is undeniable, and a dominant 
characteristic of the people now is hysteria, a quality 
hitherto foreign to the English race. 

Rarely has a great king of England had a worthy son 
as successor, for state policy has necessitated marriages 
with foreign princesses, with uniformly unsatisfactory 
results. Henry VIII was an exception to the rule — but 
his mother was Elizabeth of York. Three of his chil- 
dren came to the throne. The son died too early for any 
display of capacity, but he was succeeded by the daugh- 
ter of the Spanish princess whom we call "Bloody 
Mary, ' ' and she in turn by the daughter of the English 
gentlewoman — Elizabeth. 

Even in individuals who have acquired fame, the 
harm of mixture of bloods is apparent, sometimes in 
physical deterioration, always in moral instability. By- 



202 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ron, with. English father and Scottish mother, when 
guided and advised by others was a gentleman. Left 
to himself he was alternately foolish and heroic. Sheri- 
dan, whose mother was English and his father Irish, was 
as reprehensible in conduct as brilliant in play and 
speech. Gladstone, of mixed English and Scotch blood, 
could never form an opinion and abide by it. On every 
important question he altered his views, and the change 
gemeraUy coincided with and was in the direction of 
the trend of public opinion. 

A pure race is the first necessity in a nation. It af- 
fords the only material for continued and progressive 
advancement, and it is difficult to subjugate or tame. 
''But where wealth is more esteemed than blood and 
race, chiefs may be bribed and the multitude easily de- 
luded. " Such a land invites invasion, is weak to re- 
sist, and its conquest, by stopping further deterioration, 
may be beneficial. 

The subject of the Norman conquest had been long 
pondered over and the design of Harold completed in 
its author's mind, but the mechanical task of composi- 
tion was the work of less than three weeks, during which 
it occupied almost all the waking hours. It was written 
at Bayou Manor, the seat of the Hon. C. T. D 'Eyncourt, 
to whom it was dedicated, March 1, 1848. From the 
long-past strife and sorrow in which he had been wholly 
absorbed, Bulwer was recalled to actual tragedy in his 
own family. His daughter, returning from Germany, 
was seized with fever in London. One of Lady Lyt- 
ton 's accomplices in mischief, learning the address where 
Emily lay ill, acquainted the mother, and accompanied 



HAROLD 203 

her to the house, where they insisted on remaining de- 
spite the medical attendant's protest that their presence 
endangered the patient's life. On Bulwer's arrival the 
intruders departed, but his daughter declined rapidly 
and died April 20th. 



PAUSANIAS 

THIS romance is unfinished but the portion com- 
pleted suffices to suggest how the whole work 
would have treated the events and characters of 
an antique epoch, and what singular and varied interest 
'the author would have imparted to a story the scanty 
historical details of which are compacted of astonish- 
ingly great incidents. 

The difficulty of enlisting interest in a romance must 
ever increase in proportion to the remoteness of the 
period in which its scenes are cast. Whether Bulwer 
would have succeeded in making the persons, places, and 
happenings of so early a period as familiar as those of 
later times, may admit of question; but this fragment 
not only shadows forth a powerful tragedy, but in itself 
is an interesting work, combining in its narrative vigor- 
ous scenes, as in the examination of Gongylus, and sug- 
gestive charm, as in Alcman's exposition of the early 
speculations into the mystery of life after death; and 
indicating characters and dramatic situations of great 
originality and power. 

The Regent of Sparta, the Hero of Platea, became the 
unintentional murderer of the maiden who confided in 
him, and ever afterward believed himself to be haunted 
by her. He dared the spells of Heraclea to have speech 
with and forgiveness from her. 

Discerning coming changes unfavorable to Sparta, 



PAUSANIAS 205 

and anxious to secure the dominance of his own state 
over Greece, he plotted for a wider empire at a time 
when every other Laconian desired only to preserve the 
natural and restricted boundaries. Thwarted in his 
plans but not abandoning them, he conspired with the 
Persians and the Helots to compass his cherished project. 
His treason was discovered by a suspicious messenger, 
who read the letter entrusted to him, and acquainted 
the Ephori of its purport. Learning that he had been 
betrayed the Regent took refuge in a temple, which was 
made a living tomb by walling up the entrance, the vic- 
tim 's mother indicating the method by placing the first 
stone in position. These events are comprised in the 
history of Pausanias. 

Our sources of information concerning Pausanias are 
all unfriendly to him. It is probable that the meanest 
assertion in the story — the charge that the betraying 
messenger was a favorite of the Eegent, and that the let- 
ter he was entrusted with requested that the bearer be 
slain as soon as his errand was accomplished, originated 
with those interested in maligning the Spartan Chief. 

As herein recreated Pausanias is pictured as passion- 
ate, self-willed, daring, and ambitious. His advantages 
of height and bearing, his power and influence, are de- 
scribed; but it is the being over whom a fixed purpose 
tyrannizes, as an idea does over its victim, in whom in- 
terest is centred. His Spartan characteristics, dignity, 
self-command, pride, and mastery of the countenance 
and whatever in another might betray feeling or emo- 
tion, are displayed in the varying scenes in which he ap- 
pears, and particularly in that examination of Gongylus 



206 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

where danger, suspense, and dexterous management of 
men are combined in an intense and dramatic series of 
incidents. Nor does this man of turbulent acts and 
schemes suffer any lessening in majesty or manfulness, 
or the respect these command in the more tender inter- 
views with Cleoniee, which further disclose another 
motive for his designs, since without some change in 
Sparta, union with her was impossible. 

In every phase of his restless career is shown a man 
of iron will and determined purpose hampered by rigid 
laws which gall and fret him, and by restraints im- 
posed by those less farseeing but equally as immovable 
as himself, until irritation changes the fettered leader 
into the secret foe. But whether in ambition, passion, 
or policy, in him the small, the mean, the trivial, have 
no place. It is for Sparta rather than for himself that 
he conspires. His aims, however blamable, are never 
ignoble. 

Bulwer's intuition and insight into character and 
motives afford elucidation of the acts and aims of Pau- 
sanias, without which all we know of him but serves to 
furnish an enigma in conduct. Whence came his im- 
mense influence 1 "What prompted his aggravating pol- 
icy toward the allies? "Why did he engage in treason- 
able correspondence with Persia? "Why tamper with 
the Helots? 

It is only by adopting the views advanced in this 
work that an intelligible explanation of all the Regent's 
acts becomes possible. Admit the suggestion that in 
spite of Sparta he designed a larger Sparta, and the 
power which a man takes from a definite purpose to- 



PAUSANIAS 207 

ward which, his every act is directed accounts not only 
for his influence, but also for his conduct toward the 
captains of the fleet, since his ends would be served if 
the Athenians in disgust departed from Byzantium. 
Foiled in this design, and suspected by the Five, he 
faced the alternative of foregoing his schemes, and wit- 
nessing the recession of Sparta into secondary impor- 
tance or an alliance with Persia, using the Helots as 
means to his ends. He chose the latter, became a trai- 
tor, and was betrayed. 

Concerning this unfinished romance Bulwer, wrote to 
Richard Bentley as follows: 

''October 6, 1850. 

"I feel sure I could make a very powerful and eJSec- 
tive tale, full of original and striking matter in scene, 
plot, and character. The gorgeous life of the Mede and 
Persian, contrasting with the severe manners of the 
Spartan, I could make very interesting. Then I have 
such good incidents — a murder — the ancient necro- 
mancy or raising of the dead — the vast conspiracy 
among the Helots which the Regent of Sparta (my hero) 
secretly headed, and which if successful would have 
shaken all Greece — and a final catastrophe of great 
terror in which Pausanias is walled up alive in the tem- 
ple in which he took refuge, his own mother bringing 
the first stone. There are other characters too, in which 
all would take an interest — the great Cimon in his 
youth — Aristides, equally just and profound — the 
wisdom and vigour of Themistocles. It is true that the 
subject is remote; but then it is new, and as I have 
never written but one classical romance (which was very 



208 PROSE EOMANCES OF BULWER 

successful), I think the remoteness would be overcome 
in the general curiosity to see how I should treat this. 
We might, too, readily change the title, if you dislike it, 
and find a new one. The story, once begun, opens at 
once to enchain the interest, and I should take great 
pains with the whole ; it would be a labor of love to me. 
Lastly, the book is begun, chalked out. History sup- 
plies of itself incidents more exciting than I could in- 
vent. And all this is half the battle in point of complet- 
ing the book soon, though as a point of style I should 
probably rewrite much of what I have written, by the 
taste of maturer age. Turn this over well. ' ' 

The vessel in which the author's son sent the manu- 
script of Pausanias from Lisbon to England foundered, 
and its cargo was lost, but some weeks afterward the pa- 
pers were recovered in a solid watersoaked mass. By 
subjection to a sort of baking, and the exercise of care 
and patience, the leaves were separated and the work 
made available for the printers. 



THE CAXTONS 

THIS work is in all respects different from its 
predecessors. The earnestness of the author has 
hitherto been evident and unmistakable, but now 
the object aimed at admits of lessened tension, the bow 
is more lightly bent, and the writer, without lapsing 
into triviality or unnecessary episodes or protractions, 
is more familiar and gracious. The quality called hu- 
mor, the genial manifestation of great experience and 
wide knowledge, which playfully suggests enlightening 
congruities and illustrations, and which differs from wit 
in not being irreverent nor malicious nor superficial, 
pervades The Caxtons. The events are unexciting 
save in the instance where Vivian's wild scheme is foiled, 
but the manner in which they are related reveals a 
power to draw forth smiles or tears by mere words which 
had never before been so charmingly demonstrated. The 
story interests less than the characters, which are drawn 
with sureness and sustained differentiation, and are ad- 
mirably representative of the varied vocations which at- 
tract active manhood. 

The influence of home in the making of a man, and 
the importance of early training in fixing principles, 
establishing habits, and supplying motives for conduct, 
are shown in this record of the progress from childhood 
to man's estate of the biographer of The Caxtons. An- 



210 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

other purpose is achieved incidentally, in the suggestion 
of emigration as a career for those able and vigorous 
young men who are not attracted to any of the conven- 
tional professions, and find themselves crowded out of 
all desirable vocations in the old world. 

The Caxton home is a dignfied but unpretentious Eng- 
lish establishment. The family comprises Austin, the 
father, an erudite philosopher, genial, kindly, and im- 
perturbable; Katherine, the mother, a notable house- 
wife, proud of her husband, tolerant of his oddities, un- 
ceasing in her care for his comfort, and ambitious that 
his goodness, as well as his knowledge, may be known 
to others; Uncle Roland, a maimed old soldier with im- 
movable ideas, never entirely correct, but always lofty 
and stimulating, about honor, ancestry, duty, and hered- 
ity; Uncle Jack, fertile in plans for benefitting human- 
ity, and incidentally promising large dividends, schemes 
which invariably fail because of their philanthropic en- 
cumbrances; Doctor Squills, a frequent guest, odd, ob- 
servant, and prosperous; and Pisistratus, the son whose 
experiences supply the material of the book. 

While childhood glides toward youth. Master Caxton 
is the mother's care, but his father is watchful, and im- 
parts lessons in his own way, by parables, which the boy 
is left to puzzle out for himself. Thus he is taught to 
be truthful in spite of fear, to mend bad actions, not by 
good wishes, but by good actions ; to find in self-sacrifice 
the highest happiness ; and to know that his best friends, 
advisers, and comforters are always those at home. 

His school life is uneventful, but when he comes home 
for good, he finds his uncles have been added to the f am- 



THE CAXTONS 211 

ily circle. The soldier, by example and precept, has an 
abiding influence, the speculator dazzles for awhile ; but 
the father contrives that the boy shall perceive that 
Uncle Jack's projects are usually based on incorrect 
estimates. 

It has been settled that Pisistratus is to go to Cam- 
bridge University, but a, chance meeting with a prom- 
inent member of Parliament and an old friend of the 
Caxtons causes this step to be deferred, and instead he 
becomes private secretary to Mr. Trevanion, and is in- 
itiated into practical life, familiarized with hard and 
various work, learns much of public men and political 
movements, and gains an acquaintance with the higher 
social life. But he loses his heart to Fanny Trevanion 
and cannot continue his work and suppress his feelings. 
Therefore he resigns his position. Trevanion is touched 
by the frank way in which the young man has acted. 
His daughter 's hand must be bestowed where it will ad- 
vance his own political importance, but he envies the 
father of such a son, and claims the privilege of aiding 
him elsewhere. 

Pisistratus resumes his preparations for Cambridge, 
but though a bookman's son, his nature is vigorous and 
active rather than contemplative. Therefore it is with 
resignation instead of rapture that he goes to the uni- 
versity. At the end of his first term, he is called home 
by alarming letters from his mother, and finds that one 
of Uncle Jack's schemes has enmeshed his father, and 
carried away two-thirds of the Caxton property. Pis- 
istratus has no desire to return to Cambridge now. A 
serious ambition engrosses him. He seeks for a vocation 



212 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

where within a reasonable period a modest fortune may 
be secured, sufficient to restore the depleted income of 
his parents, and proAdde for some improvements. As 
one of the ' ' too many ' ' he thinks he would find in emi- 
gration the field for that exuberant vitality for which 
there seems to be no scope in England, and Trevanion, 
whom he consults, advises sheep farming in Australia, 
a suggestion which is approved and adopted. He sets 
about acquiring the needful skill, preparing for the work 
and routine of such a career, and (a harder task) win- 
ning his parents' consent to it, A reluctant acquiescence 
is obtained, companions are selected, preparations com- 
pleted, and accompanied by Uncle Roland, Pisistratus 
goes to London to say farewell to the Trevanions, and 
then begin the voyage. 

His departure is delayed by an adventure wherein he 
prevents the abduction of Fanny, by a daring and des- 
perate wooer, and gains another companion in his cousin, 
Roland's son. 

Australian life has its vicissitudes, but by-and-by the 
needed fortune is accumulated. Meanwhile close friend- 
ships have been formed, and various acquaintances made. 
Uncle Jack, successful now that his plans are not weight- 
ed down by the burden of humanity, turns up as a pros- 
perous speculator in the bush ; and the lure of the land, 
the charm of the life, and the brightening prospects, all 
conspire to induce Pisistratus to remain a colonist. But 
the duty which required his self-exile can now be dis- 
charged, and he returns to England, to restore the fam- 
ily fortunes, and take his part in the Caxton home. 

Commercialism had no attractions, political life made 



THE CAXTONS 213 

no appeal, and the learned professions were all distaste- 
ful to the healthy, strong young man, who nevertheless 
desired exercise for his abundantly trained faculties. 
Opportunity was not to be found in England, and his 
restless energy prompted to a severance from his people, 
and toils in a new world to which he readily adapted 
himself. But home was associated with dear memories, 
and no large ambition fired his mind. Therefore though 
travel and adventure attracted for awhile, home and its 
circle drew the wanderer back and he realized that there 
the largest measure of contentment and happiness await- 
ed him. 

The most attractive character in the work is Austin 
Caxton. He is depicted as a learned man, not unfitted 
by his attainments for ordinary life and business, but 
reflecting credit on erudition because his stores are read- 
ily available for practical purposes, and therefore be- 
come wisdom; and manifesting shrewd judgment and 
sagacity in all affairs where his interest is enlisted. He 
is averse to ceremonial and satisfied with the society of 
his books, but to his friends unfailingly sympathetic 
and helpful. He can be the companion of a child, yet 
also the adviser of men of the world. His familiarity 
with books causes his ordinary conversation to abound 
in playful references and quotations. His vast and pur- 
poseful reading is indicated by the outline of his ' ' His- 
tory of Human Error," his penetration is displayed in 
his interpretation of the world's pastoral dreams of 
peace as prognostications of war, his originality is evi- 
denced by his proposed hygienic application of books, 
and by his recognition of the good-out-of-evil of war. 



214 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Austin Caxton represents philosophy, mild, beneficent 
and helpful, closely allied to poetry by kinship and sym- 
pathy, and always finding interest in its suggestions; 
more genial than science because experienced in human 
emotions and aware of their importance as factors in 
conduct; wise in counsel because cultivated in every 
faculty, not in one talent only; inspiring thought in 
the young, consoling the disappointed, aiding the 
crushed, changing the views of the erring and winning 
affection even from a lame duck. He regards commer- 
cialism with an amused curiosity, and ridiculing its af- 
fectation of humanitarian aims, but admiring its stimu- 
lating energy when frankly exercising the selfish pur- 
posefulness which is natural to it, and under the influ- 
ence of affection, abandoning the caution which is usual- 
ly an accompaniment of philosophy, and joining in a 
commercial venture to his injury. 

The veteran Roland, grim, chivalrous, and tender to 
all but himself, is a noble portrait of the loyal soldier 
whose satisfaction consists in the knowledge that he has 
done his duty. Honors and preferments have been 
awarded over him but of these he never murmurs, the 
medal he received for his services at "Waterloo is valued 
above all purchasable commissions. The notions of fam- 
ily, duty, and honor, which a less scientific generation 
than the present revered as heredity, have guided his 
life, and formed his character. Unfortunate in his mar- 
riage and harassed by a wilful, rebellious son, he bears 
"his griefs uncomplainingly, hiding from all but Austin 
the sacrifices he has made to preserve that son from 
criminality, and clinging to his lonely tower, the ruined 



THE CAXTONS 215 

remnant of his ancestor's possessions, in the hope (ulti- 
mately realized) that the wayward one might yet prove 
worthy of his race. 

Roland is the embodiment of poetry, having all its 
youthfulness of feeling and sentiment, and displaying 
its heroic, forceful, and suggestive qualities in conduct 
and ideas, dominated in action and thoughts by prin- 
ciples always accepted as articles of faith, and disdain- 
ing the reasoning which would reduce them to mutable 
and impotent matters of opinion; reverencing the an- 
cient, the noble, the brave, hiding sorrow under a cheer- 
ful seeming and untiringly active when duty requires 
sacrifice, or right demands supporting recognition. 

Uncle Jack, the commercial genius, is a very original 
character, finding everywhere the opportunity for com- 
bining beneficence with gaining riches, or at least 
starting a company for that purpose. All his schemes 
have possibilities in them, and it is usually because of 
the entangling benevolent features that they fail. At 
any rate, when he reverses his methods, abandons his 
fellow creatures, and narrows the circle of prospective 
benefitters, he soon becomes! prosperous and a capitalist. 

The portrait of Trevanion is a very interesting study. 
An ambitious, laborious member of Parliament and busy 
practical man, whose energy infects others; constantly 
improving his properties and his homes, building up his 
importance and aiming at power, handicapped by al- 
ways seeing more than one side of a question, he ulti- 
mately rises to Cabinet rank only to find that position 
intolerable because of his inability to act with his party 
when their measures are obnoxious to him; and sub- 



216 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

siding into an earldom, repining and disappointed, he 
is constrained to leave London because of the visitors 
who stay away. 

In Sir Sedley Beaudesert we have the finished gentle- 
man, a survival from former days, the representative 
aristocrat; courteous, considerate, and tactful, with 
strength concealed by exquisite grace, and ability only 
discovered when occasion calls for its use. 

Vivian, misguided and wilful, a deserter from home, 
matching his courage and skill against the world and not 
failing, though his successes were perilous and threw 
him among undesirable acquaintances and caused him 
to indulge all sorts of wrong ideas, yet had in his affec- 
tion and pride, qualities which at last effected his re- 
demption, and won him back to paths wherein he justi- 
fied his friends ' faith in him, and became again a source 
of joy to Roland. 

Pisistratus under the unobtruded guidance of philos- 
ophy is familiarized with poetry, put on his guard 
against the enthusiasm of commercialism, and enabled 
correctly to comprehend the qualities needed in political 
life and the rewards and disappointments which await 
those who conscientiously follow it as a profession. None 
of these promises satisfactory careers to one who regards 
duty as the first consideration and prefers active life to 
contemplation. "When financial reverses diminish the 
comforts of the Caxton family he resolves to repair the 
injury and chooses an unattractive but adventurous ex- 
periment for the purpose. His end achieved, he resists 
the temptations of the new land and its promises, and re- 



THE CAXTONS 217 

turning finds tiie discharge of duty leads not only to 
conscious satisfaction but to unexpected blessing. 

The characters in The Caxtons are generally shown 
in repose, not in action. It is by their modes and utter- 
ances that we are made acquainted with them. This 
treatment is necessitated by the subject chosen, for the 
fancies of Eoland and the reasonings of Austin could 
not have been presented so attractively in any other 
way. But in this respect the work is a descent from its 
predecessors, in which the several persons were present- 
ed under stress, in conflict, or striving purposefully; 
in them also, the attention was concentrated more on the 
within than the without. What they thought and felt 
was made known to us, rather than how they deported 
themselves. 

The Caxtons was written concurrently with Lucretia, 
and after appearing anonymously in Blackwood's Mag- 
azine was published in 1849. 

Lucretia traced out the perverting effects of evil or 
negligent early training, and as a relief from the pain- 
fulness of its composition, Bulwer alternated the task by 
also writing The Caxtons, a companion picture teaching 
the reverse of that lesson. 

Its reception by the journals illustrates one of the in- 
jurious results of contemporaneous misjudgment on 
writers. No one had a more profound contempt for 
that expression of uninformed pretentiousness which is 
called reviewing than the author of The Caxtons; 
and his knowledge of art, its various forms and highest 
developments, was larger than that of any of his con- 



218 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

temporaries. Yet the relation of the successful author 
to the modern public is such that he is constrained to 
subordinate his own artistic designs to the satisfaction 
of the taste of the day, and the reiterated pronounce- 
ments of disapproval of very great works, and appreci- 
ation of lighter productions, had effect even on Bulwer, 
for projected studies of profound importance were aban- 
doned, and he resigned himself to less ambitious com- 
positions. From the grand and tragic he refrained. The 
pleasing and agreeable received more attention, and the 
altitudes native to Zanoni and Lucretia were but oc- 
casionally reascended in later works. 



MY NOVEL 

THE authorship of this depiction of the varieties of 
English life is ascribed to the biographer of The 
Caxtons; and as every writer draws from his own 
observations, experiences, and remembrances, naturally 
and necessarily, incidents and characters described in 
'The Caxtons reappear in My Novel — not copied, for 
transcription is only a journeyman's work, but recogniz- 
able as ideal representations of events in which he took 
part, and persons with whom he was brought into contact. 
Thus the abduction of Violante, although the details 
are in every particular different, had its origin in the 
snare arranged for Fanny Trevanion; Richard Aveling 
was suggested by Uncle Jack; Audley Egerton by Tre- 
vanion; Harley L 'Estrange by Sir Sedley Beaudesert; 
and the kindly homeopathist by Doctor Squills. Some 
discernible resemblances were necessary to justify the 
assigned authorship, and this detail was not neglected. 
My Novel is constructed in accordance with the old 
fashion of narrative fiction. Bach division has an in- 
troduction, the catastrophe assembles all the important 
characters together, and a final chapter gives particulars 
of the after-fates of those in whom interest had been 
aroused. 

The purpose of the work is that of promoting more 
cordial relations between rich and poor, by counteract- 



220 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ing the teachings of those who seek to set class against 
class; by discouraging the mercenary and ignoble appli- 
cation of knowledge ; by inculcating the wisdom of self- 
improvement as the first step in general reform ; and by 
reiterating the importance of the neglected virtue of pa- 
tience. But its lasting lessons are conveyed in the con- 
trasting results of knowledge worthily sought and nobly 
applied, and of knowledge perverted and used for mean 
ends. 

The characteristics of My Novel are its large tolerance, 
its geniality and the multitude of original and interest- 
ing personages with whom it makes us intimately ac- 
quainted. Its incidents range from the quaint to the 
impressive. The varying happenings at the stocks; 
Richard Aveling's courtship; Burley's allegory of the 
one-eyed perch; the discomfiture of Peschiera; and the 
unmasking of Randal are all excellent inventions, but 
the fluctuating Lansmere election, the poignant inter- 
view between the estranged Harley and his life-long 
friend, and the death of Egerton are the supreme chap- 
ters in the book. Though in the many characters de- 
picted the admirable representatives of the several 
classes are made most prominent, the existence of other 
sorts is not ignored. The prosperity of Hazledean is 
neighbored by the squalor of Rood Hall. Beside the 
pushing, noisy, humbugging Richard Aveling we have 
the calvinistic trader's wife, to whom the reputation of 
the dead is of more consequence than the success of the 
living ; and accompanying the cabinet minister whose 
name is a synonym for honor and integrity, we have 
his protege — coveting, scheming, and ignoble. 



MY NOVEL 221 

My Novel is a comprehensive survey of the general 
phases of life in England during the pre- Victorian era. 
It begins with the rural community of Hazledean, with 
its bluff Squire, loving his estate as if it were a living 
thing, hating to see any of his property out of order, 
with many prejudices and some unwisdom, but always 
generous, well-meaning, and warm-hearted; Parson 
Dale, sharing the cares and hopes of his flock, soothing, 
chiding, admonishing, and encouraging, never evading 
any duty, and only perturbed by the little tempers of 
his wife ; the domiciled Italian exile whose large general 
knowledge of mankind contrasts the parson's limited 
but more practical lore of men, and who with his devoted 
servant, his pipe, and philosophy, contrives to endure 
semi-starvation with equanimity; the pattern-boy Leon- 
ard Fairfield, who receives here his first experience of 
man's injustice, but also such preparation for useful 
manhood as wise direction of studies, stimulating coun- 
sel, and useful examples can bestow. 

From the humble joys and griefs of Hazledean, we 
accompany Leonard to the busy industrial centre of 
Screwton, where the Americanised Richard Aveling with 
his big factory is successfully demolishing his smaller 
rivals, and eulogising competition, until a larger cap- 
italist with a more huge establishment drives him into 
the clutches of money-lenders, near to that bourne of 
competition — bankruptcy — and so changes his opin- 
ions that a combination is effected, ruin averted, and 
prosperity assured. Meanwhile the new man is busy 
forcing himself into importance, building up a political 
machine after the American plan, securing a prominent 



222 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

position in the social coterie, abusing the aristocracy 
and yearning for a title, and by his energy and example 
transforming the appearance of the place : ' ' There was 
not a plate-glass window in the town when I came into 
it, and now look down the High street." 

Thence we journey to London, the converging point 
of the agencies which influence civilization, with its 
splendid rewards for the successful, and its river for 
those who fail. There we encounter those diverse ex- 
amples of journalism, the improvident, gifted Burley 
and the prudent, matter-of-fact Norreys. There the 
bland Levy is useful and accommodating to spendthrift 
youths, gathering to himself their substance, but not 
their respect, and using for further aggrandisement the 
power which loans have made him master of. And 
there practical life has its characteristic representa- 
tive and victim in Audley Egerton, the apparently 
prosperous, satisfied, and envied minister, to whom offi- 
cial life has become a necessity, and who in laboring for 
the Avelfare of the state, has sacrificed fortune, health, 
and happiness, without securing contentment. 

A brilliant example of the figure to which the Latin 
rhetoricians gave the name of expectatio, occurs in the 
persentation of Harley L 'Estrange, the hero of My 
Novel. He is spoken of, referred to, or described in 
every book, and each time our curiosity and interest 
are increased. 

In the fifth book we meet him, and note that he is 
odd, tactful, kindly, and considerate. Every succeeding 
book adds to our knowledge of his lovable disposition, 
tenacity of affection, and natural ability, and gradually 



MY NOVEL 223 

we are made aware that he possesses also the powers and 
capacities of a leader and manager of men. Violante's 
peril energises all his faculties. His indifference dis- 
appears, he becomes active, resourceful, quick in his 
penetration into character and motive, fertile and in- 
genious in counterplot and plan, and expeditious in ex- 
ecution. From thenceforth he is the commanding fig- 
ure, surpassing, versatile, excellent in all his acts, and 
as terrible and irresistible as Achilles. 

In Harley L 'Estrange are combined unvarying hon- 
or, wide culture, dauntless courage, and courteous de- 
portment. He is constant in friendship, beneficent and 
sympathetic always, active wherever good needs aid or 
evil calls for resistance, and displaying magnificent ca- 
pacity when occasion demands its exercise. 

Genius has a deserved and worthy position in our 
esteem. The land-owner, earnest and constant in im- 
proving his estate and ameliorating the condition of his 
tenants, wins our commendation; the successful manu- 
facturer makes his usefulness evident, attains position, 
and conmiands respect; the practical man, regarding 
loyalty to his party, thoroughness in the discharge of 
his duties, and even the sacrifice of private life, as the 
necessary conditions of his career, receives our cordial 
approval and praise; but the gentleman is the flower 
of civilized life, and for him we feel at once admiration 
and reverence. In the poet, the squire, the trader, the 
statesman, the qualities shown in departmental voca- 
tions engage our regard; but L 'Estrange is great in 
every emergency or duty, and the range of these calls 
out a wide variety of powers. 



224 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

"When his early disappointment caused self blame and 
regret and sorrow, it was in active warfare that he 
sought relief from bitter memories, and on many a field 
he found fame, but not consolation. When his Italian 
friend, disregarding his warnings against the rash 
schemes of revolutionists, found himself deserted, be- 
trayed, and proscribed, his escape was facilitated by 
L 'Estrange 's timely and desperate interference. And 
later Riccabocca's restoration was effected as a result 
of the unrelaxing labors of the Englishman. The sol- 
dier's child found in him a guardian, and the despondent 
poet a friend. And always, from schoolboy days on- 
ward, his affection for Egerton continued unabated, un- 
clouded, until the late-found record revealed the ground- 
lessness of his regrets, and the treachery of his chosen 
friend. Then in the revulsion of his feelings he plans 
a crushing revenge on the man who had deceived him, 
which, however strong his justification, would have sul- 
lied his honor, and demeaned him. His triumph over 
himself, aided somewhat by religion, more by love, is 
his greatest and worthiest achievement. That contest 
with his evil purpose, resulting in the interview and 
reconciliation with Egerton, is matchless for intensity and 
restraint, and from it with all hateful memories banished, 
friendship renewed, and self-respect restored he hastens 
to do and undo; secures Egerton 's election, exposes the 
machinations of Randal, presents Leonard to his father, 
and wins in Violante a bride who, exalting and inspiring, 
gives what had hitherto been lacking — purpose and mo- 
tive for sustained participation in the great activities 
of life. 



MY NOVEL 225 

Audley Egerton, contrasting the frank, open, and 
sympathetic L 'Estrange, is reserved, austere, and formal. 
He has attained to power and influence with the party 
to whose interests he hasi devoted time, wealth, energy, 
and thought. Solitary and unemotional as he seems, it 
was nevertheless as an escape from memories! of a loss 
which blighted all possibilities of joy that he threw 
himself into a political career, and sought escape from 
private life by devoting himself to the arid routine of 
Parliament. As a member of the Cabinet, weighty in 
debate, clear sighted in his views, irreproachable in 
conduct, and lavish in expenditure, he has become an 
important, respected, and envied man; yet one trans- 
gression in a life otherwise flawless has deprived success 
of all satisfaction. In a mission honestly undertaken 
in the service of L 'Estrange, under* the stress of passion 
and surprise, he betrayed his friend, trusting that the 
future would provide occasion for confession and for- 
giveness. That time never arrives; and the proud and 
honored statesman suffers and fears, for his deceit may 
be discovered, and the only man whose good opinion he 
values has the right to despise him. 

Careless of all else than the esteem of his friend, 
Egerton allows his wealth to waste, and has to resort 
to the money-lender. His health becomes impaired, but 
nothing in his bearing or conduct reveals these misfor- 
tunes. He continues to appear rich, Strang, honorable. 

When circumstances make L 'Estrange aware that his 
remorse was groundless and his chosen friend a deceiver, 
in his wrath he devises and begins to carry out a retalia- 
tory deceit which would leave Egerton bankrupt of 



226 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

means and reputation ; but after an interview with 
Audley, all desire for revenge passes away, the brief 
estrangement ends in a deeper affection, and L 'Estrange 
secures the triumph instead of the humiliation of his 
friend. 

And when the election has closed and Egerton is vic- 
torious, when brighter prospects are opening, higher 
position and greater honors assured, and two homes 
await him, death strides into the circle and for ever 
closes against him the path to the missed and pined for 
private life. 

In the history of Leonard, the progress of genius is 
illustrated. From contemplation, reverie, and solitude 
it passes to the actual and positive, in which uncongen- 
ial field it perceives the common and ignoble springs of 
action, sees ambition leagued with selfseeking, and love 
a matter of calculation ; is bullied and buffeted and com- 
manded, until natural affection being menaced, genius 
resigns its apparently advantageous prospects, and goes 
on its way to a larger destiny. Even when its own 
path is clouded and uncertain, it accepts responsibility 
and affords help to the forlorn. In the practical world, 
though rarely recognised, it bears its part; strives, suf- 
fers, and grows, deriving benefit both from its own er- 
rors and failures and from these which it witnesses in 
others. 

Presently it is put to school with experience, is taught 
method and acquires discipline, and then the results of 
patient observation and severe thought are given to 
the world effectively and with success. Always while 
fulfilling its own purposes and acquiring fuller knowl- 



MY NOVEL 227 

edge of things material to itself, it aids and benefits oth- 
ers; and still, as it is subjected to more bitter trials, 
its natural dignity and nobility enable it to submit to 
the sacrifice of ambition and even of hope, but ultimate- 
ly the path it follows leads to serenity, satisfaction, and 
content. 

Randal Leslie is described and dissected with elabor- 
ate care; an egotist regarding his own interest solely, 
oblivious of duty and its claims, devoting his undenia- 
ble ability to the base purpose of turning knowledge 
into power. His innate selfishness is displayed in the 
first action we see him perform, that of removing the 
crossing-stones at the ford. He intends to return by 
another way, and the needs of others do not concern 
him. His slovenly home has no humanising influence 
over him, though to restore that home to its former pros- 
perity is the object he sets before him. For the pros- 
perous he has only envy, for the unfortunate no con- 
sideration. He betrays the poor exile to his foe, and 
assists in Pescheira's villainy for a reward; he plots the 
ruin of his friend, and seeks to profit by the defeat of 
his patron. He covets wealth and position, and for 
these he schemes tirelessly and unscrupulously and comes 
very near success, only to fail as miserably and irre- 
trievably as history shows his kind — the Borgias and 
Richards — always fail. Intellectual power stripped of 
beneficence resembles the principle of evil, and as Par- 
son Dale points out, even he was a failure. 

Violante, who grows from affectionate childhood into 
regal beauty during the progress of the work, is the 
typical inspirer to high deeds and noble purposes. She 



228 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

regretted being a useless girl because a woman sighs 
''I wish," but a man should say "I will." To her the 
contented and inactive appeared little less unworthy than 
the mean. United to L 'Estrange, she revived his love of 
fame, and strengthened it into purposeful act, shared 
his labors, gloried in his triumphs, and found blessing 
in the new pride which his parents felt in him, who now 
fulfilled the promise of his youth, because he had found 
what he then sought in vain. 

Helen is more retiring than Violante. Her early ex- 
periences of life 's hardships which developed the woman 
in her before childhood had passed, has stilled all ambi- 
tion, either for herself or for others. But it has also 
made her firm in will, thoughtful for others, and com- 
passionate to all. Under her prudent rule no household 
cares will ever trouble her poet-husband. The serenity 
essential to the production of all great work will be his 
always, and though critics may assail and lampoon, their 
malice will never affect the home where woman the 
comforter reigns. 

Nora Aveling, whose tragic history connects the var- 
ious fates of the characters whose lives and acts we are 
made acquainted with, affects each of those who meet 
or learn of her, as poetry influences its readers. She 
awakens . mind in the peasant-lover, and genius in the 
boy who knows not that he is her son. She induces mel- 
ancholy and inaction in the brilliant L 'Estrange, impels 
to ceaseless toil for unobtainable forgetfulness the am- 
bitious Egerton; inspires jealousy and envy in the un- 
scrupulous Levy, and gives solace to the disappointed 
and beaten Burley. And as the unhappy fate of a poet 



MY NOVEL 229 

often gains a more lasting regard for Ms works, so it is 
the pitiful ending of Nora's life which intensifies the 
spell of her memory. 

The composition of My Novel was begun in 1849, when 
Bulwer was a sojourner at Nice. After appearing in 
Blackwood's Magazine, it was published in 1853. 



WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? 

WHAT will he do with it? is the oft recurring 
question in respect of the opportunities and ac- 
quisitions of the several persons whose actions 
give interest to a work which sets before us a number of 
unusually engaging characters, describes their attitude 
toward society, which has not used them well, explains 
the motives and consequences of renunciations which in 
the instances of those most prominently depicted have 
been extraordinary, and presents some rare examples of 
human aifection. 

A great orator and parliamentarian abandons his 
career and foregoes the purpose to which he had devoted 
all his powers, because the woman he loved proved faith- 
less. An honorable man steps from his place among 
gentlemen and accepts the stigma and punishment of a 
convicted felon, from parental devotion ; and a woman of 
culture and refinement relinquishes all her prospects 
and possibilities, and dedicates her life to the task of 
thwarting the designs of the lawless ingrate who had 
been the lover of her youth, winning him back to decency. 
In plot and construction the work is flawless, its per- 
sonages are consistently and adequately developed, the 
observations on man and conduct are astute and illumin- 
ating, and the descriptions of scenery, which evince a 



WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? 231 

wistful fondness for out-of-door objects, though brief 
are many. 

That sorrows and calamities may have a beneficent 
mission and be salutary agencies when properly exam- 
ined, is the lesson of the story, which in following the 
rising fortunes of Lionel Haughton finds in the succes- 
sion of persons with whom he is brought in contact the 
materials here elaborated into a very powerful whole. 

Piquant headings precede each chapter ; the incidents 
are abundant, novel, and varied ; there are many master- 
ly descriptions and impassioned scenes, a satirical ac- 
count of the house of Vipont considered as an entity, 
maintaining its importance and increasing its influence 
through the centuries, which suggests a new possibility 
in historical writing ; and a matchless portrayal of three 
society beauties. 

These however are all subsidiary to the delineation and 
development of characters of striking originality, whose 
respective strengths and weaknesses are unfolded with 
a fulness proportioned to their importance in the nar- 
rative. 

Guy Darrell is one of Bulwer's grandest creations. 
The depiction of a great man, no longer young, yet sub- 
ject to the passion which woman inspires, is fraught 
with difficulties; for as years advance, love usually sub- 
sides into its proper place as but one (and that not the 
most important) of life's experiences; and its persist- 
ence as a master-force may reasonably be regarded as an 
evidence of weakness in its mature victim. Yet no; sug- 
gestion of the ridiculous attaches to this portrait. Dar- 
rell 's dignity is never detracted from, nor does the re- 



232 PROSE ROMANCES OP BULWER 

spect he commands suffer any derogation, and the in- 
terest he inspires is preserved unimpaired to the end. 

The descendant of a race more venerated for its de- 
cay, with collected purpose and resolute will he set him- 
self single-handed to the task of undoing the work of 
ages, and restoring his line to its place of dignity in the 
land. A prosperous experience at the bar gave him 
wealth; as an orator in parliament he won fame; and 
just when a future of honor and power was opening 
to him, he suddenly withdrew from active life and se- 
cluded himself at his ancestral home. To the public, 
family bereavement accounted for his retirement, but 
the actual cause was the marriage of his betrothed to the 
Marquis of Montford, which blighted his hopes, left am- 
bition objectless, and made him doubtful of all human 
faith; and though he preserved such silence about his 
attachment that his friends were unaware of it, it lasted 
in all its intensity. Nowhere could he find one whose 
attractions could banish the memory of her into whose 
hands he had given his future, and therefore the career 
sought with energy and advanced with success was vol- 
untarily resigned for a home without neighbors and a 
hearth without children. 

How important he would have made the Darrells is 
shown by the vast, unfinished, and abandoned mansion, 
with which he had intended to replace the unassuming 
manor house, and by the works of art collected for its 
adornment, now stowed away and neglected. House 
and treasures typical of the uncompleted life and fruit- 
less attainments of the man. 



WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? 233 

That Darrell 's reputation was not undeserved is made 
manifest to us by his impassioned earnestness, his felici- 
tous quotations, the noble poetry of some of his utter- 
ances, his quick perceptions, his ability to praise, and 
also by his sensitiveness and ready response to all appeals 
to worthy emotions. His commanding presence, large 
information, and disciplined powers, are supplemented 
by his evident sincerity; and because he feels, he has 
the power to impress others. 

The restoration which he undertook to accomplish 
was not an ignoble end, but it should have been but a 
portion of a larger purpose. It ought to have expanded 
into objects embracing humanity. And because his am- 
bition was restricted to the mere building up of a house, 
it narrowed his usefulness and developed in him an in- 
ordinate pride. And all the sorrows of his life had been 
directed against that pride, and toward the frustration 
of that design. Because of his devotion to an ancestor's 
name he had sacrificed his own hold on the respect of the 
future without securing satisfaction in the present, and 
on the confines of age he reluctantly resigned his baffled 
purpose, and endeavored to content himself with the 
partial completion of his plans promised by the adoption 
and carrying forward of the Darrell name by his heir. 

The natural nobility of the man is evidenced by the 
thoroughness with which he sacrifices his pride as soon 
as he realizes that it has been a fault, not a virtue, and 
his desire, when he sees that it stands in the way of the 
happiness of others. And as a consequence of his conquest 
of self, explanations become possible which prevent his 



234 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

meditated expatriation, and render probable the comple- 
tion of the unfinished house and the resumption of the 
suspended career. 

WilHam Losely, after taking upon himself the punish- 
ment for a crime committed by his son in the hope that 
his expiation might be rewarded by Jasper's redemp- 
tion, finds that his sacrifice has been in vain. The boy- 
robber has grown into a hardened glorier in infamy, and 
to save that son's child from her father, he takes charge 
of Sophy. Together they wander, seeking obscurity, 
hiding under other names, avoiding friendships, and re- 
sorting to varied shifts and ingenious expedients, in or- 
der to keep their whereabouts unknown. To earn a live- 
lihood, he is by turns a strolling player, a demonstrator 
of animal sagacity, a pedlar, and a basket maker. Old, 
lame, one-eyed and poor, he neither complains nor re- 
grets, but sees always that providence has been good to 
him, for his misfortunes have developed virtues and per- 
ceptions which his former life as genial boon companion 
and hanger-on of rural Thanes would have kept dormant 
for ever. In every evil he finds a compensating good, 
and though travel-worn and anxious, he keeps his fear 
to himself, jests about his troubles, and is always! sunny 
and playful and tender. 

The commune of these two, experienced age and affec- 
tionate childhood, is very beautiful. Equals in sim- 
plicity and trust, they confer together and plan, and 
comfort each other, she proud and delighted to take care 
of him, he choosing easy words to make his explanations 
clear. Differences in their views and judgments are in- 
dicated which jar with our theories of heredity, for he 



WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? 235 

loves acting because of the excitement, she is the part 
she assumes; and the pretense in life which he regards 
as fun is revolting to her because it is not truth. 

By-and-by his innocence is made clear and his name 
assoiled, without the guilty one being punished. He is 
restored to his rightful station and welcomed by old 
friends, and has other proofs that providence is good to 
him. 

Arabella Crane suffered unpardonable wrongs because 
of her misplaced trust in Jasper, who basely deceived 
and deserted her. Years afterward she meets her recre- 
ant betrayer, changed from the all-attracting beauty of 
his youth, but still handsome and strong and fascinating. 
She endeavors to lead him into an honest way of life, 
and strives to make conditions pleasant for him, but his 
passion for gambling cannot be displaced by any tame 
occupation, and soon he reverts to his old habits; and 
after repeated oscillations between good and bad luck, 
each of which embruits him further, he joins in criminal 
schemes with others as reckless as himself. 

Though her experiences with this magnificelat good- 
for-nothing would justify hatred and revenge, this wom- 
an cherishes no thought of either. Her home is always 
open to him, and whenever he has no other shelter he re- 
turns to her. But she winds herself into all his confi- 
dences, and with abounding resourcefulness devotes her 
energies to the frustration of his villanies and the re- 
demption of himself. She has taken his life into her 
keeping, and though all her labors to turn its course into 
safer channels end in disappointment, she never relin- 
quishes the hope that he will be induced to reform. 



236 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Years of untiring vigilance avail nothing, but when at 
length the powerful brute is reduced to helplessness by 
paralysis, her hands close over him, she nurses and waits 
upon him, and finds joy and reward in the fact that he 
now needs her and misses her if she leaves him for a 
moment. 

Jasper Losely, with splendid physical endowments and 
fitting education, from the lack of all moral qualities be- 
comes a heart-breaker, a lady-killer, and a gambler, and 
has never a qualm of conscience on account of the mis- 
eries he causes. Selfish, wasteful, inconstant and un- 
grateful, there is nothing conunendable about him, nor 
anything admirable save the strength and force which 
he abuses. Immediate gratification regardless of the fu- 
ture is all he cares for, and mean and paltry and brief, 
in comparison with what might have been, are his gains. 
Spendthrift, swindler, and dare-devil, hated by his fel- 
low-bravos and a menace to all, this dreadnought comes 
to have a superstitious fear of his only friend, the wom- 
an he wronged and humiliated, who has saved him from 
dangers, and repaid his injuries with kindness. And his 
terror grows, for he finds that he cannot escape from 
her; and she masters and cows him, before the stroke 
which made the strong man weak, and afterward she 
constrains him into acts of confession and restitution, 
and causes him to desire the forgiveness of those he had 
wronged. 

Alban Morley, soldier and gentleman, prudent, wise, 
disliking painful subjects but not sparing his own feel- 
ings when the relation of a pitiable history may be made 
an enduring warning against a dangerous folly ; Vance, 



WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? 237 

the artist, wlio endures the crushing civility and conde- 
scension of fine lady patrons, and hugs his reputation 
for stinginess; Fairthorn, angular and shambling, so in- 
significant out of his art and so glorious in it; Rugge, 
the unwittingly comical tragedian, and his faithful Hag ; 
these and others are minor personages, but we are made 
to know and understand them, and they have their part 
in the complications and circumstances which so fre- 
quently provoke the question, What Will He Do With 
It? 

Serjeant Ballantine told Bulwer the story on which 
the history of William Losely is founded. Charles Dick- 
ens suggested the title of the work, which after appear- 
ing in Blackwood's Magazine was published in 1858. 



A STEANGE STORY 

AWBIRD creation, in whom is portrayed the com- 
ing man of wealth, who bears to his present rep- 
resentative a similar relation to that of the cor- 
poration of today to the individual tradesman of the 
past, is the most engrossing personage in A Strange 
Btory. Margrave is the millionaire projected into fu- 
turity, with his methods, tendencies, and characteristics 
completed; his power and use of power developed from 
their present indications ; and the result of the reciprocal 
action of these ultimates of conduct and faculties upon 
himself, realized. 

The change wrought by commercialism upon the work- 
ing many, who have been transformed by it from in- 
dividual makers of things into mere portions of a vast 
machine which produces in large quantities, has been a 
fertile theme for writers. But the equally far-reaching 
alteration effected by the same agency in the position 
and potentialities of the few whom it enriches has re- 
ceived meagre attention. 

When wealth was mainly acquired from the owner- 
ship of estates, cities, or governorships, the possessors 
were attached by duties and interests to the sources of 
their revenue. Because life was varied, active, and full, 
such men as the Medicis, Sforzas, and Southamptons, 
though their vices and faults often marred their repu- 



A STRANGE STORY 239 

tations, nevertheless developed in themselves an exquisite 
taste which stimulated others to produce great works. 
Gold being regarded as a means, not an end, the wealthy 
were the encouragers of scholars, artists, and construc- 
tors, and much which the world will not willingly let die 
owes its existence to their discrimination and liberality. 
Under such fostering care occurred the simultaneous 
flourishing of great artists, who made brief periods glor- 
ious, but were followed by a long succession of medi- 
ocrities; for grandeur of taste is necessary to grandeur 
of production, and when less admirable patrons pre- 
ferred selfish to patriotic ends, or serving a political 
party to refining and ennobling a people, then the statue, 
the picture, the play, reverted to the commonplace. 

The education and early training of these men were 
carefully attended to. The knightly injunction to rev- 
erence God and love the king was but part of a chival- 
rous code which made honorable, kindly, and courteous 
conduct habitual, and regarded cowardice and falsehood 
as disgraceful, and which, when instinctively observed, 
is the characteristic of all admirable people, to whom it 
is, as the flower to the plant, the completing crown. 

Machiavelism introduced a vitiating but plausible 
creed, and showed apparent advantages in a policy of 
craft, deception, and hypocrisy. No permanent success 
was attained by those who adopted and practiced it, but 
the temporary advantage gained by subordinating the 
chivalrous dictates was disquieting; and the teachings 
of the author of "The Prince" have had an increasing 
influence with each succeeding generation. 

Meanwhile commercialism has developed other sources 



240 PEOSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

of wealth ;i and business, the field wherein rapid acquisi- 
tion of riches is frequent, is one of the most attractive 
and promising careers, and therefore popular. But 
though trading can be conducted without infringement 
of the moral code, great fortunes cannot be accumulated 
in business where it is actively observed, and the ambi- 
tious youth finds its lessons encumbrances in practical 
commercial life. He must unlearn them, or make a con- 
tinuous compromise between his creed and his practice, 
or not succeed. 

For morality has no more connection with business 
than Christianity has with the multiplication table. The 
moral rules are based upon the injunction to "do unto 
others as ye would they should do unto you" and con- 
flict with the business code which has for its foundation 
"let the buyer beware." 

Rapid success being irreconcilable with strict and ac- 
tive adherence to the moral code, there results a gradual 
modification in the observance of it, and a final abandon- 
ment of all attempts to square the two ; and he who most 
adroitly ignores the practice of morality in commercial 
dealing appears tO' acquire wealth most quickly. 

Nevertheless the profitable exercise of such business 
methods is only possible so long as the masses of mankind 
are under the domination of morality; for if unethical 
practices were generally observed, the business man 
would be the first to suffer. Meanwhile he has a similar 
advantage tO' that formerly enjoyed by the mounted 
man-in-armor over the foot soldiers: his moving de- 
stroys them, they are powerless to injure him. 

And that is the position of the modem man of wealth. 



A STRANGE STORY 241 

He is identified with vast undertaking, a busy, ener- 
getic person; inclined to overreach others, intent on 
crushing out competition, and striving to establish a 
monopoly — recognizing no connection between excessive 
profits and robbery, nor between adulteration of goods 
and dishonesty, nor between underpayment of wages and 
oppression, when practiced by himself; and regarding 
unduly the value and quantity of goods produced, care- 
less of the wellbeing of the producer. But his personal 
interests are enlisted in his own undertakings, and with 
many shortcomings he is nevertheless a doer of great 
deeds, a builder of cities, a constructor of railroads, a 
developer, an improver. The extension of his business 
necessitates these things, therefore he undertakes them, 
and success gratifies him, therefore he completes them. 
Unencumbered with sympathy or beneficence, his policy 
secures a reputation for both. He has a suspicion that 
too much learning effeminates a man, so the education of 
his children is entrusted to sycophants and servants. He 
has slight affection for his home, and outside his office he 
is discontented and unhappy. 

There is a different specimen — one utterly dissociated 
from business activity, the passive recipient of revenues 
from undertakings to which he contributes no service. 
He is usually an ostentatious spendthrift, but sometimes 
he covets a position of importance in the world of men, 
and strives to storm his way to it without success ; then 
he subsides into a position in polite society, which opens 
to his golden key. 

But business is constantly evolving towards larger 
possibilities, and the fortunes acquired through it grow 



242 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

continually more colossal. The very nature of its mag- 
nates changes with the conditions, for the corporation 
ceases to reflect and express the thought of those to 
whom it owed its existence, and it constrains them to 
consider its continuance as the most important neces- 
sity. Reversing the pagan axiom, it becomes necessary 
to live, but not necessary to live nobly. What will be 
the character of the ultimate man of wealth, re4.red in 
its code, relieved of useful participation in its activities, 
aware of his power, and living in accordance with his 
training, his heredity, and his experiences? 

That person is here displayed. 

Margrave is fascinating, for he has read curiously, 
and travel has extended his knowledge ; but he is unap- 
preciative of art, and cares for science only in so far as 
it may be useful to him. He is young, healthy, enjoys 
life, can exert himself, and display energy in serving a 
friend. But he is cynically disdainful of what is right 
and) just, has no veneration for what is good and great, 
and is without compassion. Animal life, no matter how 
innocent, is ruthlessly destroyed if it cause him pain, 
and the cry of a hurt child awakens no sympathy. He 
considers only his own welfare. All his faculties are di- 
rected to self-preservation, and whatever opposes or 
threatens his enjoyment arouses his hostility and is 
crushed, not by his direct act, but by others whom he 
constrains to do his will. He is dangerous, for he pos- 
sesses powers by means of which he can control others, 
effect desires by the exercise of his will, and influence the 
minds of people at a distance. Ordinary means are fu- 
tile when opposed to his designs, and only the outraged 



A STRANGE STORY 243 

man, who dares to act in ways not countenanced by so- 
ciety, can partially thwart his projects. 

This portentous being, attracted by certain bold spec- 
ulation in a recently published work, makes the acquaint- 
ance of its author, Allan Fenwick, an ardent scientist, 
and solicits his aid in certain investigations vital to him- 
self, but seeming chimerical to the doctor, who declines 
the offer made for his services, but is willing to test 
gratuitously the discoveries he regards as childish. Cir- 
cumstances arise which steel Fenwick 's mind against 
Margrave, who then strives to gain his assistance by in- 
fluencing him through the woman to whom he is be- 
trothed. His success in this is not complete, but his 
machinations cause a serious impairment of Lilian's 
health, and Fenwick, soon after their marriage, believ- 
ing that change of scene may be beneficial to her, leaves 
England and establishes a new home in Australia. 

Margrave endeavors to find elsewhere the assistance 
he needs, but vainly ; and after many attempts, in which 
his health becomes broken, he betakes himself to the 
present home of Fenwick. As a patient he gains the end 
he failed to buy as a patron, and the experiment is un- 
dertaken. Just when the last process in their task is 
nearing completion, a stampede of animals overthrows 
their instruments, wastes the results, and tramples Mar- 
grave to death. 

Darkly impressive and soulless as Margrave appears, 
he is always the master-piece of living things, his wil- 
fullness never chills our interest, his joy in the merely 
natural life has something of infection in it, and pity 
mingles with the awe aroused by his fate, when Ayesha 



244 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

and her spectre-like attendant — Nature and her servant 
Death — gather him under the veil. 

The marvelous vanishes from A Strange Story when 
its magic agencies are translated into terms associated 
with wealth. A business man whose prosperity is de- 
clining seeks to combine a less pretentious but more 
solid undertaking with his own. His unscrupulous 
methods are objected to and his overtures are declined. 
An employe of intimate and lengthy service is deputed 
to effect what the master had failed to accomplish, and 
with the assistance of an attendant — a fawning, supple, 
insinuating and entangling person — in other words an 
attorney — the business of this competitor is destroyed, 
his trade annexed, and a new corporation formed by 
joining the two, the successful trader controlling the 
stock and receiving the profits. 

Henceforth he is a dual personage: himself, and that 
cold, bloodless emanation, the corporation, which is in- 
formed of his purposes and executes them, which may 
be questioned and make replies without his knowledge, 
and which acts in his interest at all times, irrespective 
of his presence or absence. 

The scene in the museum represents the transition 
from individual to corporation, as instanced in the 
change from Grayle to Margrave, and indicates the ac- 
companying alteration in character. A corporation be- 
ing without beneficence and sympathy, he who is inti- 
mately allied with it acquires its selfish disregard for 
everything but permanence and success. Continued life 
and enjoyment become the sum of his desires. 

The wand is the authority of office which may be reft 



A STEANGE STORY 245 

from the master without serious impairment of his in- 
terest, though it may transfer a little additional power 
to another. The ability to influence other minds results 
from the control of newspapers. Working through 
agents is effected by requiring certain services from rep- 
resentatives and employees. Baffling justice and putting 
the officers of the law to sleep are common practices with 
large corporations. 

The loss of vigor resulting from the unsuccessful at- 
tempt to secure the property of the dervish has its par- 
allel in capital squandered in the vain effort to crush a 
rival and appropriate his business. 

To replenish the wealth thus depleted, a quicker meth- 
od than the slow production of gold is conceived, some- 
thing of vaster promise, more rapid in its effects, requir- 
ing for its elaboration the aid of unselfish fidelity and 
loyal daring. Which means that a new and imposing en- 
terprise is inaugurated, in the formation of which the 
promoter enlists the services of two classes, one having 
familiarity with methods, to carry out his plans; the 
other possessing that combination of honor, integrity, 
and courage, which we call character, to disarm sus- 
picion. 

The formation of a monopoly arouses hostility on 
every hand, and though the investigations of great rivals 
may be ineffective, and their interference be stayed by 
the confronting of unimpeachable character, fidelity ex- 
hausts its influence vainly against the general public. 
The many, perhaps abetted by a rival, overthrow the 
scheme, prevent the acquisition of gain, and crush the 
promoters. 



246 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

To reduce poetry to commonplace in this fashion 
would work havoc with any romance in which the inter- 
est depended upon the narrative only. But Margrave 
is the cause of numerous ingenious and suggestive 
guesses at riddles in nature and speculations on man and 
his future, and it was because these themes are grave 
and serious that a wondrous story was chosen for their 
enunciation. They are but guesses, for thinking is a 
process of comparisons, and where man cannot compare 
he cannot successfully reason. Just as we can speculate 
and conjecture about the ether of space but cannot think 
about it, so the soul and immortality elude our reason- 
ing because we have nothing with which to satisfactorily 
compare them. We can only infer, suggestively argue, 
and guess. 

And this method is followed in carrying out another 
and higher purpose of A Strange Story. Since nature 
gives no species instincts or impulses which are not of 
service to it, and man alone has the inherent capacity to 
receive the ideas of deity, soul, immortality; since his 
ability to comprehend these ideas and believe in them 
leads to that continued improvement which makes the 
difference between man and the beaver, the bee, the ant ; it 
is contended that beside the physical and mental there is 
another life stored in man, and that we cannot by any 
known laws of mind or matter solve the riddles we meet 
in both, unless we admit the principle of soul. 

Allan Fenwick is a vigorous and disciplined investi- 
gator, with the training of a physician and the learning 
of a professor. He is a rigid materialist, setting a high 
value on common sense, requiring absolute precision in 



A STRANGE STORY 247 

that which calls itself science, intolerant of any coneeS'- 
sion to sentiment, and contemptuous of the credulous. 
He has won some reputation by an essay on ''Vital 
Force," and is engaged upon a more ambitious work in 
which he has exhaustively treated of man and his fac- 
ulties, assigning to every power a physical origin, and 
circumbscribing all man's interests to the life that has 
its close in the grave; mind being born from and nur- 
tured by the material senses, acting through and per- 
ishing with the machine those senses moved, and soul 
being ignored as an unprovable superfluity. 

It is one of the phenomena of our organization, that 
if we rivet prolonged attention on any part of the frame, 
an exhibition of morbid sensibility will be caused there. 
Even while penning the arguments by which he sup- 
ports this limited view of man, Fen wick's own feelings 
suggest a doubt of their soundness, for he has become 
engaged to Lilian Ashleigh, and in his affection there is 
a desire for the eternal which his theories deny. And 
while brooding over his conception of man as a sensuous, 
soulless being, he is brought into contact with Margrave- 
young, full of life, with eccentric notions and vivacious 
egotism, who does not believe in soul, and acts and thinks 
as if he had none — the very embodiment of his own 
theory. 

His intercourse with Margrave perplexes and humbles 
Fenwick, for continually his reason and his senses con- 
flict. What he sees and hears impresses him as super- 
natural and therefore obnoxious to common sense, and 
the material explanations by which his experiences are 
resolvable fail to satisfy. He is harassed by the per- 



248 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

petual struggle of antagonistic impressions. Believing 
that all man's knowledge comes from the senses, he 
finds that the senses can delude and cheat. Thus he is 
constrained to doubt the reliability of the very founda- 
tions of his belief. 

Meanwhile his projects are arrested, and his life sad- 
dened by the failing health of his wife, which neither 
change of scene nor constant care avail to benefit. 
In a desperate effort to win renewed vigor for her, 
Fenwick agrees to assist Margrave in a task which 
that enigmatical creature is confident will secure a re- 
storing elixir. The experiment fails, and all hope seems 
gone; for what can comfort the survivor if the dead die 
forever? Suddenly Fenwick recalls that man alone asks 
' ' do the dead die forever, ' ' that nature gives no instinct 
in vain, and that the very question prompted by that in- 
stinct disposes of the doubt. 

It is not by the terrors of the forces roused by Mar- 
grave that Fenwick is brought to a belief which the one 
he had set forth in his book contradicted and denied; 
nor by the wisdom of sages, though the wise Faber ad- 
duces arguments from the works of a wide range of 
philosophers, and from his own experiences and cogita- 
tions ; but by the sorrow, affection, and hope common to 
all mankind. It is a realization of the unavailing fu- 
tility of all comfort if love is not eternal which brings 
Fenwick to a belief in a hereafter, and humbles him into 
a suppliant acknowledgment of a benignant and tender 
providence. The affection and hope of all who livei and 
love is the justification of the belief in immortality. 

Lilian Ashleigh is one in whom imagination is over- 



A STEANGE STORY 249 

stimulated, and reasoning neglected. She is therefore 
the antithesis of Fenwick, mystical where he is material. 
The two have need of each other, for in neither is there 
that wholesomeness of mind which accompanies the har- 
monius development of the whole. His suppression of 
imagination produces perplexity and necessitates the 
abandonment of his profession. Her abstraction from 
the world and indulgence in reverie lead to phantasy and 
the clouding of mind. But in the ideas of visionaries 
are the germs of possibilities which subjected to practical 
experiment develop into vast potentialities; and there- 
fore Margrave recognizes in her a power which he seeks 
to control and direct solely to his own advantage. Fi- 
nally by sorrow Lilian is taught that it is in this world 
that mortals must pass through that probation which fits 
them for the world of angels. 

The matter-of-fact coterie of the Abbey Hill, with its 
Mrs. Colonel Poyntz, who by a woman's ways made her 
will supreme and gained the ends she schemed for, is 
the nearest approach to realism that Bulwer ever per- 
mitted himself to make. Its introduction serves to at- 
tach to the waking world characters and incidents other- 
wise more appropriate to dreamland. 

Every marvel in A Strange Story has its warrant in 
the writings of mystics, but the art with which they are 
here brought together and made to serve other purposes 
beside furnishing a fascinating narrative and the skill 
with which mental perplexities are substituted for con- 
tending passions and made to afford sustained and en- 
grossing interest are alike unique. 

A Strange Story was first published in All the Year 



250 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Bound. A novel called A Day's Bide, contributed by 
Charles Lever, failing to attract the readers, was hur- 
ried to a conclusion and Dickens applied to Bulwer for 
a romance for that periodical. This story, woven out 
of a dream that he had dreamed, was altered by its au- 
thor to conform to the serial form of publication, and 
began in August, 1861. Concerning it Dickens wrote: 
' ' The exquisite art with which you have changed it and 
have overcome the difficulties of the mode of publication 
has fairly staggered me. I know pretty well what the 
difficulties are; and there is no other man who could 
have done it, I ween. ' ' 



THE COMING RACE 

THE COMING RACE, Kenelm Chillmgly, and The 
Parisians are definitely related to each other in 
subject. Each deals with the views, theories, and 
movements contemporaneously advanced and advocated 
on such questions as the position of woman, marriage, re- 
ligion, social organization, and government; but in the 
manner of treatment and presentation they differ entire- 
ly. The Parisians depicts the ferment of these new ideas 
in a community disposed to encourage them. Kenelm 
Chillingly shows the dis-harmony resulting when an in- 
dividual endeavors to reconcile them with the facts and 
habits of life, and The Coming Race, in the guise of a de- 
scription of a subterranean people of comparatively per- 
fect civilization, pictures society as it would be were the 
dreams of the philosophers and reformers realized. 

Utopias, where ingeniously devised plans of organiza- 
tion have changed the social and administrative arrange- 
ments in directions deemed advantageous by their dis- 
coverers, have often been described. In all of these, al- 
though a far-off country or island is selected for the 
new experiment, the ordinary natural conditions are 
predicated, and man remains essentially the same as we 
know him. 

In The Coming Race another conception is worked out. 
Man has advanced and his surroundings are different. 



252 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

The potent sun, the changing seasons, the ebb and flow 
of the great seas, and the energies and raptures they in- 
spire are unknown, unknown, too, the powerful influence 
exerted by these on the character and life of the inhab- 
itants of earth. There science and skill have surmount- 
ed unfavorable conditions, and a controlled, orderly, and 
effectual mastery of temperature and soil contrast our 
dependence upon and subjection to the crude and violent 
phenomena of sunshine, rain, wind, and tempest. They 
have modified whatever was harsh, and annihilated all 
that was irksome. Mechanical inventions have dispensed 
with the necessity for toil, and centuries of culture have 
crystallized serenity, contentment, and satisfaction into 
habits, and developed potentialities continually extend- 
ing. 

The story begins with a plausible incident. A mining 
engineer and an American acquaintance resolve to in- 
vestigate the recesses of a jagged chasm, which has been 
revealed in piercing a new shaft in a deep mine. They 
make careful preparations for their descent and return, 
but the venture is disastrous and the American finds 
himself without means of escape, alone in a region which 
is brilliantly illuminated and evidently inhabited, for 
there are fields covered with a strange vegetation, and 
he hears the hum of voices, and sees buildings which 
must have been made by hand. Cautiously he advances 
along the lighted road toward a structure which has at- 
tracted his attention, from which emerges a form differ- 
ing from all hitherto seen, in dress, height, and calmness 
of expression. This figure approaches and accosts him 
in an unknown tongue, his replies to which are not un- 



THE COMING RACE 253 

derstood. He is led into the building, and by means of 
signs and sketches on the leaves of his pocket-book he 
accounts for his presence among them and shows how 
he came there. Conducted to a home of great mag- 
nificence, he is entertained as a guest, meets other in- 
dividuals of this singular race, learns much about their 
habits, attainments, and way of life, and his explanations 
and descriptions of these are the substance of the book. 

The Vril-ya, as the people of this region are called, 
are stronger of form, grander of aspect, taller, longer 
lived, and more immune against sickness than we are, 
and the women surpass the men in height, strength, and 
intellectual power. Their scientific attainments, their 
inventions and mastery of methods, have enabled them 
not only to ensure full productivity from their fields, 
but also to diffuse wide culture among all, supplemented 
by the financial independence of each. There is no right 
or duty from which either sex is excluded, and absolute 
equality prevails. Industry is concentrated upon agri- 
cultural production, manufacturing, and constructing. 
The lawyer has no existence, and the trader is an un- 
important factor. The mischievous and unnecessary 
thus eliminated, organization is simplified, and effective- 
ness increased. Poverty is impossible and crime un- 
known, and there are no incentives to cupidity and am- 
bition. Fame is not desired, great wealth is a disad- 
vantage, and heroic excellence is not striven for, but the 
moral standard universally attained is high, and exquis- 
ite politeness, generosity of sentiment, and abundant 
leisure are general characteristics. 

This felicitous state of existence is the result of con- 



254 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

tinued effort in the direction of general well-being, per- 
sisted in for ages. Their wrangling period of history, 
which approximates to our present, ended some seven 
thousand years ago. 

The Vril-ya define civilization as ' ' the art of diffusing 
throughout a community the tranquil happiness which 
belongs to a virtuous and well-ordered household." In 
the government which is the agency for securing this 
end they dispense with argumentative assemblies, have 
departments which administer the several services, and 
unite all under one head, the ' ' Tur, ' ' whose requests are 
implicitly obeyed. Such substitute for labor as the at- 
tention and supervision of machinery entails is per- 
formed by the young of both sexes, who are paid by the 
state so amply that each has earned a competence before 
arriving at maturity. The size of the community is lim- 
ited to the number which its territory can adequately 
maintain, and their surplus population voluntarily emi- 
grates to other districts, which are prepared for occupa- 
tion beforehand. 

They have perfected aviation, and in addition all use 
mechanical wings. These and their many other achieve- 
ments have been made possible by the discovery, devel- 
opment, and application to an endless variety of uses, of 
a force mightier than electricity, called Vril. This is 
their source of light, and the motive power of their tools, 
machinery, and automata. It can be directed to destruc- 
tive purposes, and also to the invigorating of life. Every 
person carries a slender staff in which is enclosed a de- 
vice for impelling this fluid to the desired purpose, and 
constitutional peculiarities, transmitted and strength- 



THE COMING RACE 255 

ened through generations, enable the Vril-ya to handle 
this instrument with ease and certainty. 

Religion has been pruned of both dogma and ceremony 
by the adoption of a creed with an apprehensible form- 
ula, and the simplifying of worship into a brief devout 
observance free from pomp. They believe that there is 
a Divine being and a future state, but it is impossible 
for finite humanity to quicken our comprehension of the 
attributes and essence of the one, or throw any light 
upon the other. Therefore there is no discussion or ar- 
gument on the subject. Their devotional services are 
short, because earnest abstraction from the actual world, 
if long continued, is not beneficial. And they consider 
that life once given, even to a plant, never perishes, but 
constantly advances in an infinite progression. 

Woman's happiness is more dependent upon affection 
than man's, therefore it is her privilege to choose, woo, 
and win the partner she selects as husband. Marriages 
are made for three years, and being thus terminable, 
each makes such effort to deserve the other that their 
unions are singularly happy and usually last for life. 

Research and improvement of machinery and plants 
are the objects to which their thoughtful attention is 
assiduously devoted. The methods and resources of art 
are utilized so far as they serve the purposes of science, 
but their modern pictures and plays are meagre in quan- 
tity and inferior in quality to those produced in a re- 
mote past, and their last poet was regarded as a person 
of unsound mind and maintained at the public expense. 
Works of imagination have lost all attraction, and they 
have no contemporaneous literature such as ours. 



256 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Though, this race is so superior in accomplishments to 
all with whom experience or reading has acquainted us, 
it is nevertheless but an advanced variant of our own, 
and the natural law which impels towards the normal in 
the perpetuating of the species, which causes desire for 
what we lack rather than for that which is best, asserts 
itself with them as with us, and affection for the Amer- 
ican stranger is awakened in the grandest, wisest, and 
strongest of the Gyei, and this brings peril to him. From 
the danger thus incurred Zee saves the man who cannot 
return her love, by reopening the chasm, and bearing 
him aloft to the mine workings from which he had de- 
scended to the land of the Vril-ya, and then sorrowfully 
returns to her own people. 

In describing the practical operation of the system 
under which the highest form of civilization yet con- 
ceived by man flourishes and provides serenity, happi- 
ness, and freedom from anxiety, it is pointed out that 
some institutions have become extinct among the Vril- 
ya in the gradual progress to their present exalted con- 
dition; and thereby the necessary processes for accom- 
plishing a similar improvement are suggested. These 
institutions are so strongly entrenched and exercise such 
power among us at present, that it is wisely intimated 
that thousands of years elapsed before the Vril-ya ef- 
fected their removal. 

The perfect State as outlined by philosophers will be 
one in which poverty and crime have been eliminated, 
labor minimized, and culture and well-being universally 
diffused. 

These conditions are realized in The Coming Race, 



THE COMING RACE 257 

and it is shown that as a necessary accompaniment many 
other things must be dispensed with. 

Crime, poverty, punishment, disputation, theology, 
and war have been relegated to the realm of things that 
were ; and with them fame, rewards, art, literature, and 
wealth have gone ; for they had the same origin, and the 
existence of the one series is a consequence of the flour- 
ishing of the other. But multitudes of terrestrial peo- 
ples would hesitate to give up these, even though the 
sacrifice secured general immunity from the others. 

The contrast between the Vril-ya and our modern 
state is always significant. They have no vocation for 
the lawyer, the trader, the priest, the poet, the painter ; 
for science is supreme, and imagination is suppressed. 
The energies of all are turned into serviceable channels, 
and the tribute these classes would exact from the com- 
munity is saved, and thus a competence is secured for 
each, and in its train other important boons. We per- 
petually increase the number of persons following these 
callings, and enlarge the varieties of each. 

They have discarded, as ignoble and demoralizing, re- 
wards and punishments, competition, and vying for su- 
periority. "We regard these as the necessary and de- 
sirable aids to progress and government. 

With them the sexes are absolutely equal, but it is evi- 
dent from their superior development that the Gyei first 
raised themselves to man's level by a continued cultiva- 
tion of their intellectual faculties, physical powers, nat- 
ural qualities of affection, amiability, and gentleness. 
Our women dislike study, abjure self -improvement, and 
find attraction only in frivolity. 



258 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

They have simplified organization and reduced gov- 
ernmental functions, to light duties easily discharged by 
one man, who keeps in constant communication with the 
several services or departments. We add to the cost and 
complexities of administration, increase the number of 
officials, permit a steady usurpation of power by the gov- 
erning class, and accord the ultimate decision on mat- 
ters of importance to the brute force embodied in a ma- 
jority. 

The habits, thought, and aims of the Vril-ya comply 
with what sages have dreamed as the results of civ- 
ilization carried to its ultimate. Intelligence, goodness, 
and ability are developed in all. There is no salient 
difference in virtue or attainments distinguishing one 
above another, and they have abundant leisure and re- 
pose. Our philosophers would shrink from a lengthened 
experience of that equable, serene existence, and as a 
boy in the company of elderly people feels constrained 
and longs for the playground, so would they yearn for a 
return to something less dull and unexciting; for the 
Vril-ya are mature, we but as boys. 

Yet boyhood is teachable, and may be disciplined into 
a desired consummation. For that object it is needful 
that the end be not only kept in sight, but steadily ap- 
proached. A rower may admire a noble view and wist- 
fully exult in its beauty, while every stroke of his oars 
bears him farther away from it. If he would advance 
toward the prospect which pleases him, he must alter 
the direction of his boat. The attitude of mankind to- 
ward improvements in social arrangements is one of ap- 
proval and desire, unaccompanied by any effort for at- 



THE COMING RACE 259 

tainment. Indeed, general activities and developments 
are in the contrary direction. 

In The Coming Race the general use of electricity 
for power and illuminating purposes was anticipated, for 
the are-light, which preceded the incandescent lamp, did 
not appear in London until June, 1878. The telephone, 
to some extent an equivalent of contrivances common 
among the Vril-ya, was not invented until 1876, and 
aerial vehicles "resembling our boats, with helm, rud- 
der, large wings as paddles, and a central machine 
worked by Vril, ' ' were not imitated until after the close 
of the nineteenth century. 

The book was published anonymously by Blackwoods 
in 1871, and its authorship remained undiscovered until 
Bulwer's death; yet the first paragraph of the thirteenth 
chapter indicates clearly to anyone familiar with A 
Strange Story that the same writer produced both 
works. 



EXCUESUS 

That the golden age is before, not behind nsi, a re- 
versal of the ancient teaching which Jackson of Ex- 
eter was the first to advance, is the view of the au- 
thor of The Coming Race, and in elaborating his con- 
ception of what human societies such as now exist may 
under thoughtful guidance develop into, he shows some 
startling departures from our present institutions and 
practices, and describes a singular form of government 
operating through departments of service in constant 
communication with the head of the state. 

In the community which Bulwer describes, financial 
independence is assured to every one and poverty is an 
impossible condition. The several departments of art 
have become pastime hobbies, the vocations of the priest, 
lawyer, and trader have been abolished and the ma- 
chinery of government is of the simplest kind. The 
people have elaborate culture, abundant possessions, 
ample leisure, and enviable comforts, their wellbeing is 
provided for and their capacity for improvement safe- 
guarded, for no deteriorating adulteration of the race is 
permitted. 

These attainments are the result of the institution of 
a system of government which fulfils its purpose and 
gives satisfaction, but as a preliminary to its adoption 
the people gradually fitted themselves for it. The ex- 



EXCURSUS 261 

altation of the race preceded the improvement in con- 
ditions. 

The important characteristic of this system is that it 
is based upon service and is scientific, just and simple. 
In these respects it greatly excels all existing institu- 
tions and the advisability of adopting some similar ar- 
rangement is worth consideration. 

The change from a complex to a simple form of govern- 
ment, however desirable, must be a gradual and slow 
proceeding, and there is no country in which the present 
trend is not toward further multiplication of offices and 
departments. This is consequent upon all governments 
allowing an alliance of certain classes to be in the ma- 
jority, and therefore able to increase their own power 
and secure their interests without regard to the common 
good. The composition of all administrative bodies fa- 
vors this alliance and causes these abuses, and proposals 
for ameKorating conditions rarely extend beyond plans 
for securing a better representation of minorities which 
would increase the number of opinions obtaining ad- 
vocacy, without effecting any transforming benefit. 

By applying the principle of services and arranging 
for the representation of each and all of these, a vast and 
far-reaching improvement would be wrought. Impar- 
tial and united efforts for the common good would be 
facilitated and in the course of time become effective. 

Representation on the principle of service means the 
election by each class' in the commonwealth of members 
of that class to serve as its representatives. 

A civilized community is composed of definite classes, 
just as distinctly as are species of animals and plants. 



262 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

There is the Producer instanced by the farmer; the 
Manufacturer or transformer who takes one product and 
fabricates it into another, as the weaver with wool, or 
the miller with wheat ; the Constructor who makes ships, 
machines, roads, furniture, or houses; the Transporter 
who moves things from one district or place to another 
by road, rail, or water; the Trader who facilitates the 
exchange of commodities or money, and who may be 
shopkeeper, stockbroker, or banker; the Trainer who is 
schoolmaster, physician, professor, or preacher; the 
Warder comprising the soldier, the policeman, the of- 
ficers of courts, and judges; the Director, the ministers 
and administrative agents of governmentsi. Another 
class not recognized in The Coming Race but existing 
and flourishing with us is the Amusers, writers, players, 
artists, and the like. 

The usual formula for securing representation in the 
government prescribes that the voters residing in a given 
district shall elect a member to serve their interest in 
the legislature. This is unscientific and its results are 
unsatisfactory, for the trader and the lawyer secure an 
excessive representation and more useful classes receive 
none. In accordance with the principle of service, the 
method would be to instruct a given number of producers 
to send one of themselves, a like number of constructors 
to do the same, and so with all. Let each be represented 
in due proportion to its numerical importance by mem- 
bers of its own class, for none can have such complete 
and intimate acquaintance "with its requirements. And 
instead of having numerous elections in limited areas, 
register the several members of each class, apportion the 



EXCURSUS 263 

proper number of representatives to which it is entitled, 
allow every member of the class to vote for the full num- 
ber and declare those who receive the most votes the 
elected members. The larger area would ensure the 
choice of the most able: and thus the representation of 
classes which are enduring would supplant that of opin- 
ions which are fleeting. The monopoly of power by any 
one class would be prevented, and the most mischievous 
element in all governments — the lawyer — reduced to 
his proper position as a member of a mere subclass would 
be deprived of much of his power to harm. 

The abolition of the callings of the priest, the lawyer, 
and the trader is a. startling proposition, for we are ac- 
customed to regard these as not only necessary but de- 
sirable, and each is supposed to discharge a useful ser- 
vice. Admitting this, it is yet possible that more satis- 
factory arrangements could be devised. Nothing ever is 
attempted with a view to a more economical or better ex- 
ecution of their functions. It is assumed that they must 
continue as now although each is overdone in the matter 
of numbers, faulty in the discharge of service, and ex- 
tortionate in the emoluments exacted as remuneration. 
With the object of diffusing general well-being through- 
out a community, the classes which live upon others must 
be diminished both in numbers and rewards, for their 
flourishing reduces the prosperity of the community as 
a whole. 

That the head of each family should be the priest of 
the household and religion a domestic observance neither 
ignored nor obtruded is "a consummation devoutly to 
be wished." But under present circumstances mth 



264 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

many citizens indifferent about such matters, the pros- 
pect for advantageous change is a remote one, and under 
any conditions the intellectual and moral understanding 
of the ma^es must be trained and heightened before the 
caste which has arrogated unwarrantably the entire 
teaching of morality can be dispensed with. The num- 
ber of ministers of the gospel is large, the results of their 
labors meagre, and the money devoted to their purposes 
is practically thrown away. Their sermons repel, and 
but for the musical and ceremonious accompanimentsi of 
their services they would have no audiences. 

One of the causes of the indifference manifested tO' re- 
ligious observance is the preacher himself. In the prog- 
ress towards our present imperfect civilization man has 
passed through many stages. He was a hunter, a herds- 
man, and an agriculturist before he became a denizen of 
towns, and when facilities for these successive advances 
were lacking he stopped short in his development. The 
individual goes through analagous conditions. He is 
first a physical being with senses craving exercise and 
active play of limbs and muscles but without sentiment 
and inapt at reasoning. As he matures he becomes in- 
tellectual, and pictures, plays, poems, and objects of na- 
ture afford him keener joys than games and contests. 
Later an ethical sense is evolved, he reasons and discov- 
ers why things are good or otherwise, the beauty of the 
production of art, the justice of awards, the motive of 
actions, the appropriate, the wise, the noble appeal to 
and please him. Later still a spiritual stage is reached 
and the charm of all else fades before the interest af- 



EXCURSUS 265 

forded by consideration of the hereafter and kindred 
themes. 

The complete being is he who has in proper order un- 
dergone these several experiences. "We, however, train 
young men for the Christian ministry, suppressing their 
delight in physical feats, restricting their joys of emo- 
tion, and prematurely forcing a spiritual development 
without the intermediate growths, and as a result we get 
a sort of fourth sex, untactful, undiscriminating, strange 
creatures, who are coldly tolerated, when not avoided, 
by men. Be they never so young, these persons will 
give advice from their pulpits on every phase of the 
business of life. Generally tame and uninteresting, they 
sometimes become sensational, forget the injunction 
''Judge not" and evidence in themselves how familiar- 
ity with the Ten Commandments breeds contempt for 
the ninth. And they complain because their congrega- 
tions are small. 

If when the weight of years makes it advisable that 
scientists, professors, engineers, physicians, and other 
cultured individuals should be succeeded by younger and 
fresher men, the ministerial vocation were reserved as 
an honorable retirement for these, their special knowl- 
edge combined with their full experience of life would 
give to their discourses and admonitions weight, power, 
originality, and interest such as must ever be wanting in 
men educated for the pulpit. They would give dignity 
and importance to their office, and lift religion from its 
present sunken condition. 

The legal profession is said to have among its follow- 



266 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ers many men of high, honor and flawless conduct. These 
however are spectators, not participating in the services 
which attract attention because of the enormousi fees re- 
ceived, and they are too few to modify to any great ex- 
tent the characteristics of their class. The lawyer has 
changed the very nature of his calling from what is was 
originally. He is no longer, in anything but pretense, 
an officer actually assisting in the dispensation of justice, 
but rather an instrument for corrupting and perverting 
it. To exterminate the entire class has been suggested as 
the quickest and surest way to reduce crime. Pending 
that drastic step, they should be debarred from all judi- 
cial office, because their fondness for quibble and techni- 
cality makes them foes to justice; legislative positions 
should be withheld from them, for a fee will influence 
their vote. Military training would acquaint them with 
honor and an improvement in their general conduct would 
be effected by dispensing with their forensic displays, 
and requiring the presentation of arguments in writing. 
Additional benefits would result from compelling them to 
be respectful in cross examination, and fixing their re- 
muneration by a scale prohibitive of the extravagance 
now rampant. 

The Trader's interests are so well guarded that any 
attempt to limit his activity seems foredoomed to failure. 
Because of his relation to the producer, manufacturer, 
and constructor, he receives credit for their achieve- 
ments, and they are blamed for many of his wrongdo- 
ings. Every kind of production is subject to his manip- 
ulations. The fluctuations of the stockmarket are in- 
fluenced by him, the heaviest fees to lawyers are paid by 



EXCURSUS 267 

him, and in the legislature he has most of the repre- 
sentation. His service to the community, nevertheless, 
is only that of supplying the place of barter, for which 
he provides a cumbersome and unscientific substitute, 
with unnecessary departments and duplications provid- 
ing opportunity for fraud, and excessively expensive. 
Not the best discharge of duty, but the securing of profit 
is the object for which he strives. 

In money-lending, a difference is recognized between 
interest, and excessive interest which is called usury and 
legislated against by many governments. No distinction 
is drawn between profits and excessive profit, although 
some articles in passing from producer to consumer are 
trebled in price. To buy cheap and sell dear is the prac- 
tice of the trader, and the legitimate excuse for his ex- 
istence as a class is lost sight of. 

In the manufacture of commodities cost has been re- 
duced by method, organization, and invention. A fac- 
tory, like a piece of machinery, progresses by elimin- 
ating and displacing the unnecessary and attaining 
greater simplicity and economy. The trader reverses 
this procedure. Superfluous departments which may 
increase individual business but do not improve the con- 
ditions of exchange as a whole are continually added, the 
latest being the advertising agent. A dozen firms, any 
one of which could adequately supply the wants of the 
community in its line of business, have duplicate estab- 
lishments and equipments: and each goes over the same 
territory and sells a similar article, and the maintenance 
of all is drawn from the community in the shape of 
profits. 



268 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

The lack of compreliensive method, the disregard for 
economical organization and management, the mul- 
tiplicity of unnecessary employes and the excessive re- 
Avards are enough to condemn the system under which 
the trader's duties are discharged, and there are other 
evils. By its extravagance and ostentation this class 
causes a universal rivalry in unthrif t and luxury. The 
rapidity with which some of its members acquire enor- 
mous fortunes attracts from honorable callings, some 
who but for that lure might have chosen more useful 
pursuits. The apparent success of unscrupulous means, 
of wliich it presents numerous! examples, has a demoral- 
izing effect upon every other class. Its practice of ex- 
torting profits regardless of the worth of service is im- 
itated, and its misrepresentations and extravagant use 
of superlatives in language are so general that they are 
regarded without disgust or reprobation as the natural 
accompaniments of business. 

The trader's service to the state is poorly and clumsily 
discharged, and abominably overpaid, and the class is 
too numerous and powerful. The rest of the community 
is as Sindbad, and the trader is the old man of the sea. 

Large organizations operating over an entire common- 
wealth, each distributing one class of commodities ; elim- 
inating travelers, advertisements, costly displays, un- 
necessary departments and the duplications of all these, 
would have advantages over the multiplicity of distrib- 
uting agencies now existing just as the factory has over 
the small producer and machine production over hand 
labor. Wisely guarded tliese would supplant the trader 
to a great extent and benefit the commonwealth. If 



EXCURSUS 269 

governments fostered and encouraged the formation of 
such trusts and also provided for the gradual acquire- 
ment, by the state, of their possession and powers, by 
some such means as requiring the surrender of one per 
cent of their stock yearly as a tax, with proportionate 
representation in the directorate as soon as one-fourth 
of the stock has become the property of the state, the 
superior efficiency and economy would be preserved and 
the objectionable passibilities minimized. 

And in addition to their usual shares which are as- 
sumed to represent an actual investment, all privileged 
corporations should be required to assume a further re- 
sponsibility, in the shape of another capital stock of 
equal amounts to be retained in their treasury, the rev- 
enues from it to be given to every employe in the pro- 
portion of one share yearly until the completion of a 
stated number of. years' service, after which without 
further labor on his part, the income should continue 
until the worker's death, the shares thereupon reverting 
to the corporation for issuance to other employes. This 
amelioration of the condition of the toilers would mean 
the diversion of much of the natural increment of the 
value of their undertaking from the o\^Tiers, but in the 
abolition of the unrest which results from the worker 
having no share in that enhancement now, and the relief 
from the constant dependence under which he suffers, 
there would be a compensating gain. He would be in- 
terested in the careful and economical discharge of his 
duties, and the resort to strikes would have less justifica- 
tion. 

A more frank recognition of labor unions would be 



270 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

necessary under this arrangement. The workers would 
acquire some representation on the board of directors, 
and as a counterpoise to the power the unions would 
thus possess, the duty of ensuring and enforcing effi- 
cient and adequate execution of work by the members 
should be undertaken by the labor unions. 

A good government should provide for the protection, 
safety, and advancement of its citizens, and it should se- 
cure an equal diffusion of instruction, employment, and 
comfort among all. This could be accomplished under 
an organization on the principle of service. 

At present, the expansion of foreign commerce and 
the prosperity of the trader receive more thought and 
furtherance than the development of a fine race. In- 
deed, in the desire to foster trade, the native race has 
become a matter of indifference, and cheap labor, even 
if of alien extraction, is welcomed and encouraged. 
Whatever the theoretical definition of the function of the 
world's various governments may be at present, the 
problem they all seek to solve is how can our country be 
made most absolutely the slave for all the others ? How 
ignoble, mean, and contemptible such an ambition really 
is, will be better comprehended when thus bluntly 
worded. 



KENELM CHILLINGLY 

SEVERELY simple in plot and construction, dis- 
pensing with the dramatic effects of situation or 
opposed and conflicting characters, drawing its in- 
terest from the antagonism between the man and the new 
teachings, and recording opinions in greater fullness than 
adventures; concentrating all unfolding depiction upon 
Kenelm, but sketching a number of individuals with a 
completeness proportioned to their influence on his de- 
velopment, and presenting an animated and aptly de- 
scribed succession of able and original figures — this 
work charms, not only by the freshness and vigor of its 
action and observations, but also because the author has 
interwoven some of his own fondnesses and beliefs into 
the history and character of Kenelm. Running water; 
the fountain; quiet English sceneiy; violets; Italy; the 
Thames; Westminster Bridge, Palace, and Abbey — 
these had always, for Bulwer, a fascinating attraction as 
gladness-givers for teachers, and Kenelm Chillingly con- 
tains the last expression of his affection for them; and 
the judgments on art, literature, and life which abound 
in the work, however appropriate to the hero, are the 
real and final views of Kenelm 's creator. 

The work is an arraignment of certain views and 
opinions rife at the time it was written, and more largely 
acted upon and avowed since. They are here displayed 



272 PROSE ROMANCES OP BULWER 

as motives of conduct, and their pernicious tendencies 
are shown by the effects they produce on those who adopt 
them, in contrast to the more honorable and humane be- 
havior of him whom they disgust and repel. 

These reprobated but increasingly popular perver- 
sions of the lessons which time has sanctioned as wise 
and experience approved as beneficial, have their founda- 
tion in the methods and principles of trade which are 
steadily encroaching on all departments of human activ- 
ity, and have already so far infected other callings that 
between man in his private character and in his public 
conduct, a line of demarcation has been drawn which is 
fraught with evil possibilities, and m.orally indefensible. 
The lawyer, the journalist, and the parliamentarian may 
act in their professional capacities wrongfully and un- 
justly, and be excused; while deeds of a like reprehen- 
sible kind perpetrated in the social circles of their 
friends would cause irretrievable disgrace and shame. 

In Kenehn Chillingly the insincerity which thus be- 
comes a characteristic of many who engage in serving 
the public is exemplified in the member of parliament 
whose reason approves one line of action, but who never- 
theless speaks and votes against his belief, because his 
party having adopted an unwise measure which his con- 
stituents clamor for, his career would be jeopardized if 
he manifested any hostility toward the proposed change ; 
the journal-owner whose paper blames everybody to the 
end that it may have plenty of readers, disregards jus- 
tice and honor, criticises every institution destructively, 
but never suggests an improvement, and endeavors to 
crush or undermine the reputation of those who are ob- 



KENELM CHILLINGLY 273 

jectionable to its contributors or policy; the reviewer 
who, disdaining the canons applicable to the literary- 
productions of all time, gives his adherence to some tran- 
sient fad and appraises the works which come before 
him in accordance with the degree in which they comply 
with the methods of the school whose views he serves 
without believing in them. 

Each of these is a model of rectitude in private life, 
but differentiating between his individual conduct and 
his public profession, and therefore acting under a dual 
standard of morality, the stricter reserved for social in- 
tercourse, the looser used in public life, which is regard- 
ed as business and pursued with the disregard of the 
common good which is usual in the various branches of 
trade. 

The opinions which these men hold and advocate and 
by which they rule their conduct are all appeals to self- 
ishness. Patriotism they scoff at as an obsolete preju- 
dice standing in the way of free-trade and cheap labor. 
Love of country, care for its position among nations, 
zeal for its honor, and pride in its renown, are con- 
demned as old-fashioned sentimentalities, the prestige 
of a country being a trivial asset not worth the cost of 
its maintenance. Ideals are ridiculed as unscientific, 
misleading and foolish, because it is better to know how 
contemptible and malicious men really are than to re- 
vere the heroic and strive to attain to it. They hold that 
it is the duty of an owner to get the fullest returns from 
his property, regardless of tenant or employe, for he is 
charged with the task of producing the maximum for 
the consumer, and the fate of the laborer is no concern 



274 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

of his; that marriage is to be avoided because a wife is 
a costly encumbrance, and woman a simulating fraud 
and mischief-maker; that the democracy is omniscient, 
and when in the name of progress it demands changes 
or innovations, the legislator must facilitate their execu- 
tion even though in his judgment the proposals are un- 
wise. 

In favor of these propositions much may be advanced. 
Nevertheless their general acceptance would demolish 
reverence for the past, discourage beneficent activity in 
the present, and destroy all worthy ambition and faith 
in the future. That they influence many now is a sign 
of retrogression, for aU that we approve or enjoy today 
has been produced in scorn of such doctrines, and had 
our ancestors believed thus, their deeds and achieve- 
ments would not have loomed so large in the vistas of 
history. 

These articles of The Trader's Creed correctly reflect 
the appreciation of the commodity which furnishes a 
profit, over the human being whose labor made the com- 
modity. The product receives greater consideration 
than the producer; and with the growth of the trader's 
influence, these views will become more general, and their 
effects more mischievous. 

Kenelm is the representative of the class of English 
gentleman from v/hich all modernism is a continued de- 
parture. Courage, honor, culture, and courtesy are to 
him more than mere names. Position is never used as 
an offensive privilege. He recognizes in every true man 
a brother ; and he regards the mean, the sordid, and the 
selfish as contemptible. Though evading or declining 



KENELM CHILLINGLY 275 

honorable and responsible duties, be yet does good, for 
his unostentatious acts are tactful and wise and bis ex- 
ample is elevating and salutary. 

Kenelm is an only son, beir to an ancient name and 
large estates. As a preparation for active life be is 
placed with a tutor wbo is an accomplished scholar, a 
man of the world and an authority on the new ideas, 
which he instils into his pupil with the definite purpose 
of equipping him for a successful public career. Kenelm 
by birth, rearing, and association has inherited and ac- 
quired the more chivalrous beliefs of his race. He is 
strong, well informed, capable of energetic exertion, and 
purposeful and thorough in all he undertakes. He is 
also sincere and truthful ; and the lessons of his teacher, 
supplemented by the results of his observations of their 
effects on those who accept and practice them, instead 
of developing a desire for emulation, cause him to be- 
come contemptuous of fame, indifferent to the usual am- 
bitions of men of his class, and unwilling to participate 
in their attempts to legislate and rule; for he is unself- 
ish, patriotic, and has large sympathy with mankind. 
The falsity and active selfseeking which he sees every- 
where cause a distaste for the circles in which deceits 
and pretenses abound. He declines all friendships, his 
recognized abilities have no vent, and he surrenders him- 
self to a tranquil indifference, nothing being worth 
while, because action is more likely to do harm than 
good. So he becomes a contemplative, self-communing 
nurser of crotchets, a spectator instead of an actor, an 
old young man. 

To dissipate the oddities which the conflict of new 



276 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ideas with old ones has produced in Kenehn, his father 
proposes a tour with friends in Europe. An accidental 
meeting with a wandering minstrel suggests a more 
promising experience, and alone and on foot the youth 
sets out on travels in his o^vn countrj^ His adventures 
are varied enough, and all tend toward the refutation 
of the lessons he acquired from Mr. Welby. Taught to 
regard everything with the scientist's eye, avoiding the 
imaginative and valuing only the actual, his views are 
widened by his discussions with the minstrel, who shows 
him that nature is more than a machine, that mankind 
readily and universally sympathizes with the unselfish 
and chivalrous, that imagining may be as instructive as 
reasoning, and is a more noble intellectual exercise. Ev- 
eryone in whose behalf he interferes shows gratitude, 
appreciation, and desire to improve, and he finds that 
except in metropolitan coteriesi the doctrines with which 
he has been imbued have few adherents and little justi- 
fication. 

Cecilia Travers interests but does not yet attract him, 
for though he perceives that the many are worthy, he 
cannot regard duty with anything like enthusiasm be- 
cause of the apparent hopelessness; of effort against the 
ignoble. He meets Lily, the personification of romance, 
and his heart and mind are changed. An exalted con- 
ception of the purposes of life, and an eager desire to 
fulfill them is bom of his love, and that his parents may 
be proud of liis choice, he determines to engage in active 
affairs. The sorrow which follows, by showing how much 
each man has in common with his race, that no single 



KENELM CHILLINGLY 277 

passion can be permitted lastingly to blight or monop- 
olize a life, that humanity has claims on all its sons, and 
that in addition to sharing the common toils and griefs, 
he to whom abilitj^ is given is recreant to his trust un- 
less he strive to work out for successive multitudes some 
joy or gladdening possession, arouses purpose in Ken- 
elm, and in the interest of a wider circle than the home 
of his family, he resolves to cast aside the new ideas and 
earnestly work and battle for the old. 

Lily Mordaunt is a creation as interesting asi original, 
as far removed from reality as romance should ever be, 
wise though unschooled, perceiving intuitively what 
teaching rarely succeeds in rendering comprehensible, 
making aU who know her happier and better, and ac- 
complishing a task never undertaken before. Her fam- 
ily history, kept as a secret from herself, is a homily 
against the vicious ambition, too generally regarded as 
deserving of praise, against which Kenelm revolts, and 
which this work denounces: the ambition of the gentle- 
man to exalt himself into a trader. The ruined tower 
and "WTCcked fortunes of the Fletwodes have reiterated 
mention long before the whole tragic story is related, be- 
cause that vice is one against which repeated warnings 
are needed. 

In Cecilia Travers is pictured an engaging type of 
woman, which is becoming more rare every day. Pos- 
sessing talents yet unassuming, handsome but avoiding 
display, never trying to eclipse others nor to domineer, 
gentle, tender, sincere, of serene and cheerful temper 
and companionable disposition — the womanly woman. 



278 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

who ennobles and exalts man's ambitions, inspires un- 
hesitating trust, and makes Duty attractive, fascinating, 
and glorious. 

The intimate and unaffected friendship between Sir 
Peter and Kenelm, who have many characteristics in 
common, reveals possibilities rarely realized in the rela- 
tion between father and son. Each is to the other the 
dearest friend in the world, each understands the other, 
and in conversation or correspondence each is perfectly 
frank and confiding. Though the father's plans are 
often thwarted because of the son's oddities, he finds 
a compensating pleasure in yielding to the young man's 
wishes and assists in carrying them out, and when Ken- 
elm divines any desire or purpose which Sir Peter on 
his account hesitates to suggest, he removes the difficulty 
by anticipating his father's request and proposing the 
doing of these things. The readiest way to Sir Peter's 
heart is to praise Kenelm, and he treats Cecilia as a 
daughter because he is aware of her affection for his 
son. 

There is much delightful irony in the book, delightful 
because free from malice; severat pretty little lyrics, 
and one impressive ballad. 

The interior meaning of Kenelm Chillingly is that the 
imagination is as important a contributor to man's per- 
ceptions as the reason, and a more effective inspirer of 
his deeds and strivings. The realist's conceptions of 
man and his world are partial and incomplete, because 
derived from reasoning only. Art causes a modification 
in these views, by demonstrating the importance and in- 
fluence of imagination. 



KENELM CHILLINGLY 279 

And experience with, men proves that they are re- 
sponsive to unselfish appeals, capable of continued self 
sacrifice, desirous of good, and brotherly in sympathy 
and helpfulness. 

Duty seen now is calmly viewed and estimated ap- 
preciatively, but awakens no enthusiasm. 

Romance arouses imagination and a desire to propiti- 
ate and gratify friends by doing something of worth. 
Disappointment blots out this limited ambition. 

Sorrow broadens the comprehension of life's privileges 
and responsibilities by the sympathy with all who suf- 
fer which it calls forth; makes labor for humanity's 
benefit a desired service; and by the grander views of 
life's realities which it bequeaths, stimulates to deter- 
mined effort what was but desultory caprice; and by 
fitting man for beneficent action prepares that change 
in habit under which the discerned duty will have a 
calmer and more lasting attraction than even romance 
and beauty. 

Kenelm Chillingly was written concurrently with The 
Parisians, and published in 1873 after its author's 
death. 



THE PAEISIANS 

THE last days of Paris under Louis Napoleon ; the 
unrecognized causes of the fall of the empire ; and 
the changes wrought by the calamity in the char- 
acter and disposition of the inhabitants of the city dur- 
ing the siege and its accompanying miseries, are among 
the subjects illustrated and illumined in The Parisians. 
Under the autocratic rule of Louisi Napoleon, France 
had reassumed her position among the great powers. 
Paris had been rebuilt on grander lines. The artisan 
had become consummate in skill and comfortable in cir- 
cumstances. But these advantages and gains failed to 
conciliate the favor of the well-born, the cultivated, or 
the aspiring. For the most part these stood aloof, or 
gathered in coteries of Orleanists, Bourbons, Socialists, 
Republicans, and Revolutionists, each desiring a different 
condition, all endeavoring to discredit and undermine 
the existing government. The Emperor's policy of en- 
couraging trade had given vocations and careers to 
thousands, and increased the number of millionaires, 
speculators, stock-brokers, and similar classes; and on 
their adherence and active support, and the loyalty of 
the army, his continuance in power mainly depended. 
But traders are ever timorous, unreliable, and over-con- 
cerned about their own welfare ; and when adversity put 
their gratitude to the test, they were found wanting. 



THE PARISIANS 281 

For many years the emperor had suffered from the 
most exerueiating disease that a human being can be 
afflicted with. Physical agony, which benumbs the fac- 
ulties, necessitated a delegation of his powers and du- 
ties to others. Aware of his feeble hold on life, and 
anxious to safeguard the sovereignty he had established, 
he sought to widen and strengthen its foundations, and 
therefore extended the liberty of the press, relinquished 
his hitherto absolute power, and instituted a government 
by ministers after the English pattern. 

Paris looked upon these concessions as evidences of 
weakness. The new growth of journals encouraged and 
augmented the opposition. Mediocrities alone were 
available for a cabinet, the prestige of the government 
suffered by the division of authority, and it was weak- 
ened by what should have added strength. 

And now Prussia determined that the resort to arms 
for which she had long been preparing should take place. 
The excuse for war in the first instance was furnished 
by conditions in Spain, but practically all France, eager 
to humiliate Prussia, united in the cry "on to Berlin," 
and the ministry caught the popular infection, and de- 
sired war. For three days the emperor withstood the 
noisy vituperation of Paris and the arguments of the 
cabinet. Then he yielded to their wishes and signed the 
declaration. 

Meanwhile the trader had been fattening on the army. 
Fraud and jobbery had honej^-combed the entire service, 
and the numbers of soldiers and their thorough arma- 
ment, which as represented encouraged M. Ollivier to 
avow that "he entered upon war with a light heart," 



282 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

were soon found to be illusory, deceptive, and inadequate. 

The Napoleonic tradition dictated that the emperor 
should accompany the army; and under the modified 
constitution the ministry was empowered to order, pro- 
vide for, and decide upon all movements and actions of 
the forces in the field, and this gave occasion for divided 
counsels. 

The accepted plan of campaign depended for its suc- 
cess upon quick army concentration and crossing the 
Rhine at Maxau, before the Prussians moved. But two 
weeks elapsed before the ministry supplied troops, and 
these were inadequate in numbers and deficient in equip- 
ment. 

In rapidity of movement the Prussians outstripped 
the French, in discipline they excelled them. They were 
superior in numbers, and in singleness of purpose they 
had a further advantage, for the ministry at Paris over- 
ruled the generals in the field, and imposed upon them 
plans which resulted in an unheard-of series of reverses. 

After a trivial victory at Saarbuck, in quick succes- 
sion losses were sustained at Weissenberg, "Woerth, and 
Forback, followed by the disastrous defeat at Sedan, 
where the sun of the Napoleonic dynasty went down in 
cloud and storm and carnage. For the empire fell when 
its founder surrendered his sword and became a prisoner 
of war. 

Following the usual custom, upon reaKzing that their 
army had been defeated, the Parisians rose in revolt. 
The senate was dissolved, a republic proclaimed, and a 
provisional government assumed the duty of maintain- 
ing order and defending the city, which, surrounded by 



THE PARISIANS 283 

a besieging army, remained shut off from civilization 
until starvation compelled surrender. 

During the four months of complete isolation, the suf- 
ferings and dangers to which the citizens were subject- 
ed produced much disorder and outrage, but generally 
the finer elements of character were brought into evi- 
dence. Former exquisites and society favorites became 
ministrants of charity, volunteers for ambulance work, 
soldiers, and leaders in desperate sorties; delicate and 
tenderly nurtured women joined the ranks of nurses and 
attached themselves to hospitals; the churches were al- 
ways filled, and a populace universally regarded as the 
most gay and careless, demonstrated that it could be de- 
vout, serious, and bravely indifferent to peril, discom- 
fort, and privation. 

In The Parisians the several aspects of French metro- 
politan life during the closing days of the second em- 
pire are depicted with an impartial discernment which 
combines an intimate knowledge of the various depart- 
ments with an intelligent comprehension of their rela- 
tive importance as parts of a whole. Attention is chief- 
ly drawn to and care and thought bestowed upon, the 
worthy and admirable but not to the entire suppression 
of the vile and ignoble. 

The plot of the work is a contributive rather than a 
fundamental source of interest, but it is marvellously 
ingenious and clever, of sufficient complexity to embrace 
over a score of characters, yet unconfused, clear, con- 
sistent in every detail, and conforming to the actual se- 
quence of events. 

The incidents succeed each other naturally and inevit- 



284 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ably, and are so diverse that while sametimes affording 
a pleased amusement, they more frequently arouse ter- 
ror, sympathy, and pity. And always the event or sub- 
ject discussed receives illumining elucidation from sa- 
gacious comment, or penetrative critical remarks. Thus 
the suggestive wisdom of the work is as marked as its 
masterly construction. 

Representatives of the administrative, literary, enter- 
prising, social, and revoluntionary sections of the com- 
munity are introduced, and we are made cognizant of 
the slender basis of popularity on which the apparently 
stable institution of government rests — its supporters 
apathetic and self seeking when of influence; when en- 
thusiastic neither inspiring confidence nor winning con- 
verts; and its foes numerous, active, and eager for its 
destruction, not agreeing upon any reasonable plan for 
a more acceptable system, but fostering dissatisfaction 
with the passibly pleasant order, in the expectation 
that from the Medea-caldron of its ruin, a rejuvenated 
France would arise. 

The lively, pleasure-loving, fickle, inconsistent, and im- 
pulsive inhabitants of the perennially sumptuous and 
splendid city are first displayed in the enjoyment of the 
amazing prosperity and luxury resulting from the rule 
of Louis Napoleon, proudly conscious of their preem- 
inence, and immoderately confident in their puissance 
and invincibility; then with their susceptibilities ruf- 
fled, regarding themselves as affronted, clamoring for 
war, and resenting all prudent dissuasion; again as- 
tounded and bewildered by the reiterated failures of 
their army, denouncing their rulers, accusing their gen- 



THE PARISIANS 285 

eraJs, and applauding the magniloquence of mouth- 
fighters. Then suffering not only the privations caused 
by the iron ring of the conqueror's armed investment, 
but also the disorder and ruin consequent upon the sub- 
stitution of mob rule for orderly government; and de- 
veloping under these multiplied disasters patience, self- 
abnegation, modest heroism, and unselfish devotion — 
qualities latent in all Frenchmen, though ordinarily ob- 
scured in Paris by an affectation of frivolity and ego- 
tism, too generally accounted their real characteristics. 

In the confidential search necessitated by the trust be- 
queathed to him, Graham Vane engages the services of 
M. Renard, and also enlists the aid of Frederic Lemei'- 
eier, whose large acquaintance and obliging disposition 
eminently fit him for assisting in Vane's difficult task. 
After much wearying delay a slight clue is found, and 
from this beginning, despite many checks and disap- 
pointments, other details are accumulated, and at last 
the tangled skein is unraveled. 

In pursuing his investigations Vane frequents the 
social and literary circles of his friends, and penetrates 
into the region of the conspirators and revolutionists; 
and the persons met, whether in frank intercourse or 
casual contact, pass before us as a fairly representative 
panorama of Parisian life. 

We see the high spirited young Marquis, fresh from 
his impoverished estate, rubbing off his Norman rusticity 
and much of his prudent thriftiness by contact with 
wealthier members of his class, blossoming naturally 
into the polished man of the world, anxious to serve his 
country, but finding no opportunity until France, need- 



286 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

ing defenders, accepts him as a soldier; those paladins 
of the Bourse, the spectacular Louvier, and the generous 
Duplessis; the politic man of letters Savarin, cynical 
and satirical in opinion and observation but kindly in 
counsel and invariably genial, and the writers who clus- 
ter around him; the veteran De Breze, antagonizing 
the settled order and sighing for the past — his habit 
under every administration ; the last new poet, with his 
songs to the "Ondine of Paris," partly inspired by 
Julie, partly by absinthe; the brothers Raoul and En- 
guerrand, admirable in their every act, and however dif- 
ferent in tastes and habits wholly alike in their devoted 
affection; Victor de Mauleon, former leader of fashion, 
now a sedate watcher of events, foreseeing change, bent 
on playing no unimportant part in the coming days, 
plotting and working against the rule which opposes his 
rise, and directing and inspiring those nurses of strife 
whom occasion and passion made the shakers of the 
throne — the mild Doctor of the Poor, the rash Dom- 
binsky, Paul Grimm whom vanity made a conspirator 
(in that capacity he interested the ladies) ; Edgar Fer- 
rier, versatile, daring, with madness in his blood; and 
the great hearted Monnier, who, taking from Rousseau 
many teachings to his injury, ignored the only safe max- 
im that deluder of youth ever put forth, '4t is not per- 
mitted to an honest man to corrupt himself for the sake 
of others. ' ' 

These are but a few of the many uncommon figures, 
who play their parts and are involved in the tragedy of 
an empire's fall. Three characters stand out in greater 
prominence than the rest. Their motives and purposes 



THE PARISIANS 287 

are displayed and analyzed, and their portraits more 
fully elaborated. One illustrates the heroism of those 
who endured, at a time when action was productive of 
welter. A second shows the corrupting of a fine nature 
which follows its surrender to the stronger will of an- 
other, and illustrates the manipulated agencies by which 
revolutions are brought about. And the third is an ex- 
ample of the leader who by influence and personality 
causes others to do his will, not foreseeing the ultimate 
result, but sanguinely confident that it will provide op- 
portunity for him. 

Of these the first is Isaura Cicogna, who, resigning as- 
sured eminence as a songstress because she preferred to 
remain a woman, achieves a success equally mischievous 
when she essays authorship. She is patient, consider- 
ate, unselfish, and dominated by the sense of duty. When 
social customs interfere unreasonably with her desires, 
she neither rebels against nor ignores the tyrannous con- 
ventions, but recognizing that these protect and preserve 
all that makes life agreeable and safe, she conforms to 
the established rule, and foregoes the uncompanioned 
walks which had become a pleasure. Even when duty 
appears most stern and repellant, though the prospect 
causes her to shrink, she does not seek to evade the sac- 
rifice. 

Intuitively perceiving and desiring the noble and the 
good, with a mind naturally reverential, broadened by 
study, but never masculine in its judgments and appre- 
ciations, she is repelled from the strife for fame by wit- 
nessing the anguish and suffering which envy and jeal- 
ousy cause in others of her sex who have succeeded as 



288 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

writers and artists; and because a calmer existence, un- 
embittered if undistinguished, has more charm for her, 
she welcomes a future which will require the sinking of 
the artist in the wife. 

Isaura engages a larger measure of Bulwer's interest 
and regard than any other of his female creations. He 
shows a father's pride in her successes, a parent's solici- 
tude in her griefs, dwells with a lingering fondness on 
her traits of mind and character, but hurries over the 
painful entanglement with Gustav Rameau. 

The second of the great characters is the socialist, Ar- 
mand Monnier. In the ranks of every association of re- 
formers there are always a considerable number who 
have allied themselves with that particular movement 
not from a reasoned examination of its general proposi- 
tions, but because of sympathy with its attack upon in- 
iquitous conditions, or flagrant grievances, or intolerable 
wrongs. 

Armand Monnier is one of these. Domestic complica- 
tions have placed him in a quandary from which under 
existing conditions there is no escape. Socialism repu- 
diates the forms and distinctions observed in the social 
system as at present constituted, therefore he calls him- 
seK a socialist. But as is the case with each adopter of 
that name, he formulates a distinct and special kind of 
socialism, differing in important details from every other, 
though having many beliefs in common with all. ' ' Partly 
Arian, partly St. Simonian, with a little of Rousseau, 
and a great deal of Armand Monnier." 

He is chivalrous, generous, and sincere, and his rough 
eloquence, heightened by burning passion, enables him 



THE PARISIANS 289 

to move and command the masses. In his trade he is re- 
liable and competent, and employment is always open 
to him; but when a strike is resolved upon he is loyal 
to his class, and needlessly joins the revolting workers, 
rouses and encourages them by his speeches, assists them 
from his savings. Recognizing in Jean Lebeau a pur- 
poseful leader whose aims in their early stages are iden- 
tical with his own, he devotes himself to the service of 
that more able conspirator, and becomes one of the rev- 
olutionary committee. 

When the Republic is proclaimed, it has no promise 
for him, and when Lebeau dismisses the council because 
of its disobedience, Monnier awakes to the fact that he 
has been used for purposes which do not advance his 
ideas, and then thrown aside as of no more value, and 
the knowledge humbles and crushes him. No longer 
proud, industrious, and enthusiastic, he sinks in his own 
esteem, and becomes reckless in conduct. 

The deterioration of this grand creature proceeds rap- 
idly. One by one his children are mercifully taken by 
death. The mother soon follows ; and with only one ob- 
ject in life Monnier drags out the miserable days until 
chance shows him in the masterful soldier the misguid- 
ing Lebeau, and Victor de Mauleon is assassinated by 
the man he duped and abandoned. 

Last of the three is the fascinating hero of the work, 
a brilliant embodiment of egotistical ambition and intel- 
lectual power, with much of frankness and kindly cour- 
tesy, great ability and redoubtable daring, combining 
secret conspiracy against the government and ruthless 
unconcern for the tools used and ruined. Contrasting 



290 PROSE EOMANCES OF BULWER 

Isaura's loyal submission to authority and obedience to 
its dictates, he would sweep away whatever opposes his 
designs or impedes his progress. Yet neither! in manner 
nor words is there any indication of the inflexible re- 
solve and indomitable will of this strange man. His 
voice is attractive and pleasing, his demeanor suave and 
unpretentious. He possesses precisely the qualities re- 
quisite in a minister of the empire. In that capacity his 
abilities would have been exercised to the advantage of 
France ; but by the irony of fate, he was debarred from 
it, and in this respect his position is typical of the rela- 
tion between intellect and the government of Napolean 
the third. 

The first act of the tragedy of Victor de Mauleon's 
life ended before the commencement of this history. His 
career as leader of fashion came to a disastrous end, and 
injurious charges against his honor had to be left to run 
their course, because his fortune was gone, and the 
proud man would tolerate no lesser position than that 
hitherto filled. More keenly felt than the busy slander 
or the loss of wealth was the ending of his engagement 
with the English girl whom he loved with all the ardor 
of his being, who now wrote him a cold farewell. That 
letter he preserved through all the vicissitudes of his 
life. 

As Jean Lebeau he reenters Paris after years of exile. 
He has been a soldier in Algiers, a seeker of fortune in 
America, he has won a reputation for bravery and pro- 
bity and amassed a modest competence. Behind the 
humble profession of a writer he hides his connection 
with revolutionary agents whom he directs and leads. 



THE PARISIANS 291 

He decides to resume his name and station, and presents 
himself to M. Louvier, a friend of former days, explains 
the true history of the distorted events, submits his 
proofs, secures his aid, and learns something about his 
niece. Louvier calls together the friends and connec- 
tions of the vicomte, and effects his restoration. 

As Victor de Mauleon he again meets old friends. 
Many are cordial, some distant. One who owed life as 
well as success to the vicomte 's generosity, refused his 
hand. But next morning this repentant ingrate, now a 
high court functionary, visits Victor and apologizes for 
his cowardice. From him the vicomte learns that the 
government will not accept his services, and would op- 
pose him. Thenceforth his hostility to the government 
becomes more bold and damaging. The war begins, re- 
verses cause revolt in Paris. Suddenly a republic is 
proclaimed. And he who most desired the downfall of 
the empire is most confounded by the result, which his 
own agents helped to bring about. He disbands the 
council — and as Jean Lebeau is seen no more. 

His rank, his popularity and his experience as a sol- 
dier, make his rise to a command in the National Guard 
a matter of course. His battalion is the best drilled and 
presents the most orderly appearance. A sortie is or- 
dered. In preparation for it the vicomte bums all his 
letters, lingering long over those from the English girl, 
but finally yielding them to the flames. With no fare- 
well nor word of cheer he goes to his command, and brave 
deeds are done. 

A dying nun who says she is the vicomte 's niece sends 
for him. In response he goes to the convent. "When the 



292 PROSE ROMANCES OF BULWER 

Superieure enters, Victor recoils, for this majestic wom- 
an is the English girl whose tender letters he had long 
preserved. She informs him that his niece Louise died 
before his arrival, that a letter has been left which she 
gives him, and adds that she, the poor religieuse, has 
learned with joy that the honor — never doubted by her 
— has been vindicated, and that prayers for him are nev- 
er by her omitted. Dazed, with every nerve quivering, 
and his heart dead within him, the vicomte proceeds to his 
work on the ramparts. Hurriedly he seeks to carry out 
the request contained in his niece's letter, and mechani- 
cally he pursues his duties. Though a mighty future 
seems to be awaiting him, the charm is gone. While aid- 
ing a poor doctor who had called his name aloud, he is 
stabbed by a wounded communist who dragged himself 
forward, plunged a dagger between De Mauleon's 
shoulders, and fell back dead. The vicomte 's wound 
proved mortal, and thus master and agent perished to- 
gether, having both outlived the desire for life. 

Bulwer and Louis Napoleon were on friendly terms 
before either became famous, and the former was one of 
the very few who did not underestimate the ability and 
determination of the future emperor. 

Napoleon the Third occupied his last night at Sedan 
with the perusal of The Last of the Barons. The vol- 
umes were left on the table of his room. 

A few pages are lacking in The Parisians, but the au- 
thor's custom of writing some of the ending before reach- 
ing it, which was followed in this instance, virtually 
gives completion to the work. The pen fell from his 



THE PARISIANS 293 

hand while he was developing one of the qaintest situa- 
tions ever conceived. 

The Parisians was written while its author was also 
engaged upon Kenelm Chillingly and at least two other 
works. It appeared first in Blackwood's Magazine, and 
was published in 1873. 



PEEREQUISITES TO GREAT PLAYS 

FEW subjects have given more employment to the 
pens of essayists than the alleged decadence of 
English Acting Plays. The existing condition is 
usually viewed by writers as a lamentable decline from 
a naturally high standard, and by selecting a small per- 
centage of the plays of the past and comparing these 
few with the many of the present, an apparent founda- 
tion for the charge of modem inferiority is obtained. 
Acting plays however, though immense in quantity are 
generally poor in quality and productions of remarkable 
worth have only for brief periods distinguished the the- 
atre of any country. That great plays are rare varia- 
tions from a standard far from high is proven by the 
hyperbolic laudation showered upon mediocre works. But 
each department of literature, and every branch of art, 
presents the same phenomena. A widened public now 
patronizes theatres, libraries, and studios ; the crude avid- 
ity for amusement which animates its masses is more 
easily and profitably catered to than the taste of the 
discriminating few, and commercialism dominates the 
actions of producers and impels them to provide what 
they think the public wants rather than that which 
would improve and benefit. 

In all productions with which man has concerned him- 
self, animal, vegetable, or intellectual, though variations 
may occur the tendency of successive generations is to- 



PREREQUISITES TO GREAT PLAYS 295 

revert to the original or normal type, and only by per- 
sistent interference and contradiction of that tendency 
have superior forms been developed and continued. Nat- 
ural selection results in the perpetuation of the normal, 
and left to themselves the horse, the sheep, the beet 
would inevitably breed back to their inferior progen- 
itors. 

That the play is subject to this law is shown by its his- 
tory. Beginning with the goatsong and the bacchic pro- 
cession it has at various times been raised to high im- 
portance, but these periods of exaltation have never been 
long continued. They have always followed a time of in- 
tense stress during which an entire people was subjected 
to the discipline and experience of anxious, exciting and 
perturbing circumstances, which elevated intellect, emo- 
tion and conduct by compelling habitual self control and 
austerity. Athenian tragedy followed the Persian in- 
vasion, the Augustan age succeeded the peril of Rome, 
the Spanish drama flourished after the expulsion of the 
Moors, the Elizabethan plays were produced subsequent 
to the defeat of the Armada. When a nation after sus- 
taining a prolonged conflict with a powerful antagonist 
achieves a victorious peace the tense interest which pro- 
duced seriousness and earnestness in all, affects the wri- 
ters of that and the succeeding generation, and their 
works are lofty, serious, and vigorous. But with the ces- 
sation of the cause the effects gradually disappear, fri- 
volity becomes increasingly congenial, heroic and tragic 
works cease to attract the many, authors conform to the 
changed requirements, and comic and whimsical produc- 
tions attain an increasing popularity. 



296 PLAYS OF BULWER 

The first necessity for the production of great plays is 
a superior playwright. The advances made by mankind 
have resulted from the many learning from the few. 
Cecrops initiated the improvement of Attica. A school 
wherein the pupils decided upon their work and disci- 
pline without the direction and guidance of a teacher 
would not be a greater absurdity than many of the demo- 
cratic devices for equalizing intelligence and opportun- 
ity. The utmost benefit attainable by such limiting 
methods is the codifying of technical rules by which a 
mechanical imitation of what has already been accom- 
plished may be attempted, but further progress is im- 
possible when the wise, the perceiving, the inventive, the 
able, are denied their proper vocation of pioneers to fur- 
ther development. 

Another indispensable factor in creating and main- 
taining a high standard in acting plays is the existence 
of an audience with the training and capacity necessary 
for judging aright, and the disposition to be impartial 
or ' ' biased less to censure than to praise. ' ' Nowhere save 
in ancient Athens could the general public be deemed 
capable of deciding on the merits of an artist's work, and 
there only citizens had a voice — the slaves were ex- 
eluded. Literary productions depend for their imme- 
diate popularity upon the reception they receive from 
those who constitute the first tribunal to which they are 
submitted, and because of the cost of theatrical repre- 
sentations this is especially the case with a play. The 
praise of the few influences the many. Hence the im- 
portant part played by cultured patrons in every bril- 
liant literary era. When the few were scholars and gen- 



PREREQUISITES TO GREAT PLAYS 297 

tiemen great works received recognition and their au- 
thors were honored and encouraged. When a section of 
the fourth estate arrogated the right to forestall the 
judgment of audiences and readers a pernicious change 
was begun. As the number of professional reviewers has 
increased the quality of literary works has declined. 
Tragedy has vanished from the stage like a pleiad from 
the firmament. 

A further requisite for the production of great plays 
— efficient actors — need not be enlarged upon, for if 
the other conditions existed, this would soon be forth- 
coming. But the play should be a great moral agent, 
and its instruments ought not to be startlingly defiant 
of social conventions, yet the present preference for sen- 
sational productions and dramas which glorify the 
wrong-doer and the weakling is not more characteristic 
than the disposition to substitute for trained players, re- 
cruits from the ranks of the notorious. 

Nowhere is there any indication of such conditions as 
have in the past preceded the production of great literary 
works, and if the conditions are essential to the phenom- 
ena, there is no likelihood of any immediate era of plays 
of other than trivial and commonplace qualities. 

The elevation of a nation in conduct and mental power 
is possible, for to some extent it has at times been 
achieved, but modern societies are averse to high intel- 
lectual training, the improvement of the race is regarded 
as of less consequence than the personal gratification of 
its present representatives, and the stoicism required in 
the continued culture of an individual or a nation, repels 
a generation intent upon having a good time. The demo- 



298 PLAYS OF BULWER 

cratizing trend everywhere impelling to a descent to- 
ward universal equality may reach that goal, and then 
begin a gradual reascension to more human conditions, 
but hitherto, democracy has always been a destroying 
force, creating nothing except the necessity for a tyranny 
as a stop to its degradations and an escape from its fail- 
ures. 

The conjunction of an able playwright and a com- 
petent and appreciative audience may be made ineffec- 
tual by press hostility. The greatest literary artist of 
the nineteenth century wrote a number of acting plays. 
The critics ridiculed and depreciated his every produc- 
tion. To gain a fair hearing it was necessary to conceal 
the authorship of one, which under the shelter of an- 
onymity achieved an immense popularity. When its 
parentage became known, it was abused with redoubled 
but ineffectual fury. For four years he persisted, tri- 
umphing again and again. Having demonstrated his 
ability to succeed despite the press, and not being under 
the necessity of subjecting himself to malignant misrep- 
resentation, he abandoned the field, although a series of 
works which he considered the best of his plays had 
never been performed. 

Professional critics are the most imitative of created 
things; they consult and copy what others have said 
about a work, and the attitude adopted by the first is 
affected by the latest reviewer. The habit of abusing 
this writer and his productions, initiated by a gang of 
Alsatians, has been followed by every succeeding genera- 
tion of reviewers. It had some provocation in the polit- 



PREREQUISITES TO GREAT PLAYS 299 

ical activities of its object. His advocacy of the repeal 
of the newspaper stamp duties, the act which he added 
to the statutes, prohibiting managers from appropriating 
without consent any published drama, and his attacks 
on the patents which limited the number of theatres in 
the metropolis, made him obnoxious to the owners of 
established monopolies, and they availed themselves of 
the chance to visit upon the playwright their dislike of 
the member of parliament, but this frenzy of vitupera- 
tion had its chief cause in the fact that the author was a 
gentleman. 

The republic of letters is in reality a congeries of tyr- 
annies. Magazines, periodicals, and newspapers have ac- 
quired great power under the pretense of the moral pur- 
pose of elevating the taste of the public, but they are, 
one and all, commercial enterprises, and neither authors 
nor readers have any part in their management. Their 
morality and intellectual qualities are absolutely gov- 
erned by considerations of revenue, and they favor or 
traduce as one or the other pays. 

The worthlessness of professional reviewals is attested 
by the fact that every generation relegates to a deserved 
oblivion the critical pronouncements of its predecessor. 
' ' Literary history is a series of judgments set aside. ' ' 

The fault is only partially chargeable against the re- 
viewers, who are but instruments carrying out the wishes 
of their employers. As conducted the thing itself is 
wrong, for it is the exercise of power without responsi- 
bility. That is the prerogative of devils, and men who 
usurp a similar privilege grow devilish in the process. 



300 PLAYS OF BULWER 

Rulers who become despots generally develop mon- 
strous, vicious, and insensate proclivities, and a corre- 
sponding growth of evil dispositions shows itself in those 
who assume critical dictatorships on however small a 
scale. The possession of power unaccompanied by coun- 
terbalancing responsibility produces a species of vertigo 
in those who attain to it, and their acts and utterances 
are more frequently the indications of disease than the 
evidence of intellectual ability. 

The desire for the unlimited liberty of the press is 
just as irrational as the demand for the free use of re- 
volvers would be. It is not by such freedom that civil- 
ization advances, but by voluntary obedience to laws each 
of which is a limitation of liberty. Murder might result 
from the free use of revolvers. A worse crime is often 
committed by the press, for all must surrender life. 
Character and reputation which might be enduring are 
sometimes destroyed by journals. 

The lack of a directive function in governments is ev- 
idenced by the lagging of protective legislation behind 
the need of it. The "thou shalt nots" wisely promul- 
gated against the individual ought, long ago, to have 
been supplemented by inhibitions against the wrongful 
acts of periodicals and corporations, and the punishment 
for infringing these laws should be visited upon the 
owners, not the agents — the substance, not the shadow. 

If the receiver of the profits accruing from journalistic 
immorality knew that he would be punished the practices 
would cease. Criticism would then become gentlemanly 
or be abandoned altogether — either alternative would be 



PREREQUISITES TO GREAT PLAYS 301 

an improvement. But as long as the hurried work of 
imperfectly disciplined journalists expressing the views 
dictated by proprietors is influential in deciding the fate 
of an artist's creation, there is no greater possibility of a 
series of noble plays being produced, than would attend 
the attempt to rear exotics in an exposed arctic climate. 



BULWER'S CONNECTION WITH THE 
STAGE 

HENRY REEVE records that when Sheridan 
Knowles was introduced to Bulwer, he said: 
''You, sir, lead a very artificial life; Shake- 
speare and I, sir, are the children of Nature. ' ' 

The self -magnification illustrated by this story is char- 
acteristic, not only of Knowles but of almost all who have 
written about Bulwer and his plays. Between Shake- 
speare, Nature, and themselves reviewers discern some 
close affinity, but the author whose life, works, and rela- 
tions to the men, measures, and circumstances of his time 
present more points of resemblance to Shakespeare than 
are to be found elsewhere, they consign to some inferior 
category, and refer to in pretentiously patronizing and 
condescensive terms. 

Friendly relations with Mr. Macready, and admiration 
for that actor 's gallant attempt to advance his art, turned 
Bulwer 's attention to the stage, but the circumstances of 
the time influenced the shaping of the works, the selec- 
tion of effects, and even the language in which they were 
expressed. 

Prior to 1843 the presentation of dramas in London 
was a privilege restricted to two theatres, Drury Lane 
and Covent Garden. Consequent upon the monopoly 
they enjoyed these houses were so huge in size that what 



CONNECTION WITH THE STAGE 303 

was uttered on the stage was inaudible in some parts of 
the theatre. Spectacle was more popular than poetry, 
and exhibitions of trained animals were more profitable 
than plays. Performances commenced at seven, people 
were admitted at half price at nine, and often the en- 
tertainment comprised three plays. "When Money was 
first produced, Foreign Affairs, and The Boarding School 
were included in the bill, and candles furnished the only 
light at the Haymarket until 1842. 

Mr. Macready was a great actor and an accomplished 
scholar, somewhat imperious and self-opinionated, jeal- 
ous of his prerogatives as head of his profession, and 
afflicted with an ungovernable temper, which caused him 
much mortification, for he was a pious man, and his 
stormy ebullitions were followed by periods of deep hu- 
miliation, contrition, and fears of divine wrath which his 
prayers could not assuage. 

Ambitious to exalt the character of stage representa- 
tions, he gathered around him a company of fairly com- 
petent players, gave admirable renderings of Shake- 
speare's greatest works, produced three of Byron's tra- 
gedies, and exerted himself to procure original composi- 
tions by contemporary authors. He asked Bulwer to 
write a play and in response The Duchess de la Val- 
liere was completed and after extensive changes, re- 
ceived its first presentation January 4, 1837. 

Its symmetry was destroyed by the alterations which 
increased the importance of the character which Mac- 
ready assumed. It was dragged into a four hours' per- 
formance. And the parts of Lauzun and Louis XIV 
were execrably played. It did not find favor with the 



304 PLAYS OF BULWER 

public, and. it gave opportunity for much journalistic 
abuse, sarcasm, and prophecy. After nine performances, 
which the manager wished to extend to twenty, it was 
withdrawn by the author. 

In publishing the play, the changes made at Mac- 
ready's request were discarded, and Bulwer recorded 
his conviction that performed as written, but with such 
deletions as would reduce it to the usual length of plays, 
it could be restored to the stage with every prospect of 
success. 

On the fifteenth of January, 1838, The Lady of Ly- 
ons was produced at Covent Garden Theatre. The ex- 
clamation of the troubled manager whose theatrical ven- 
tures were causing anxiety and fear — ' ' Oh ! if I could 
only get a play like The Honey-moon,^' prompted the 
composition of the work, which was written in ten days, 
and given to Macready, who, displeased that in the 
fourth and fifth acts Pauline overshadows Melnotte, and 
dubious of its prospects, avoided incurring expense over 
it. 

Press hostility to Bulwer precluded all possibility of 
other than dishonest criticism of any play by him, there- 
fore the authorship of The Lady of Lyons was not con- 
fided to anyone but Macready. As the work of an un- 
known writer it achieved a marvellous success. 

On the night of its first presentation, Bulwer was de- 
tained in the house of commons by a debate on reform 
in which he took part. Hurrying away he met Talfourd 
just come from Covent Garden and enquired about the 
new play. "Oh! it's very well for that sort of thing," 
the author of Ion replied. Arrived at the theatre Bui- 



CONNECTION WITH THE STAGE 305 

wer entered Lady Blessington's box, and was presently 
asked by Dickens what he thought of The Lady. ' ' Oh ! 
it's very well for that sort of thing," he repeated. Dick- 
ens expressed his astonishment at the lack of apprecia- 
tion the remark indicated, and Lady Blessington said it 
was the first sign of jealousy she had seen in Bulwer. 
As soon as its favor with the public was secure, the au- 
thor' name appeared on the playbills. 

Richelieu was produced at Covent Garden Theatre 
March 7, 1839. The changes made in compliance with 
Macready's suggestions transformed the work. The 
principal character in the first draft became the De 
Mauprat of the play and the Cardinal was elaborated 
into the important figure to which all else are subsidiary. 
It was abundantly successful. 

Under the title of The Sea Captain, the play later 
called The Heir of Montr eville, and now known as The 
Rightful Heir, was given its first presentation at the 
Haymarket October 31, 1839, The actor required many 
changes which were made, and he assumed the part of 
the Heir and made it the important feature of the per- 
formance. The play pleased the public and gratified 
Macready but did not satisfy the author, who interrupt- 
ed its run, withdrew and re-wrote it. The revised work 
is more compact in structure, its characters develop 
greater power and distinctness, and the action is less 
tumultuous than in the earlier version. 

At the Haymarket the comedy of Money received its 
initial presentation December 8, 1840. In this instance 
whatever changes were made originated with the author. 
When he saw it in rehearsal, the interpretation of his 



306 PLAYS OF BULWER 

work displeased him so greatly that he was with difficul- 
ty deterred from withdrawing it, and the manager had 
to postpone the opening, drill his actors more thoroughly 
and make many modifications in the business of the 
piece. Its sucess was as great as that of its predecessors 
and it was played nightly until the close of the season. 

Macready's retirement put an end to Bulwer's con- 
nection with the stage. In 1851 he wrote a comedy, 
which a distinguished company of amateurs, including 
Dickens, Forster, and Jerrold, acted at Devonshire House 
and elsewhere. But in the composition of Not so had as 
we Seem, the idiosyncrasies of the several players, and 
their limited experience in an unfamiliar art, were kept 
in view, the powers of the actors were not overtaxed, and 
because it made no undue demand upon the abilities of 
the "splendid strollers" it was effectively performed. 

Walpole, a three-act comedy in rhyme, was published 
without having been acted in 1869. The House of Barn- 
ley, an unfinished play with an incongruous fifth act by 
Mr. Coghlan, was performed by Mr. Hare's company in 
1877, and The Household Gods was produced by Mr. 
Wilson Barrett in 1885. 

These works are but a part of the plays written by 
Bulwer. References to Hampden-, Charles the First; 
Cromwell ; Brutus ; Oedypus ; and The Captives occur in 
the memoirs of contemporaries, and the Earl of Lytton 
speaks of a series of carefully completed plays all in- 
tended for the stage but never acted, and therefore never 
published. 

' ' The playwright should consult his tools, the actors, ' ' 
says Goethe, for their practical knowledge of stage-craft 
enables them to estimate the effectiveness of groupings 



CONNECTION WITH THE STAGE 307 

and situations and they can often suggest improving 
changes in the arrangement and presentation of a play. 

Bulwer complied with this condition and adapted his 
compositions to the views of Macready, accepting crit- 
icism and making extensive changes even when dissent- 
ing from the opinion which necessitated them. A com- 
parison of the plays as written, with the versions made 
to conform with the manager's demands, shows that Mac- 
ready's advice to Bulwer was invariably mischievous, 
that the actor lacked both nice perception of symmetry 
in construction and apprehension of the delicate relation 
of parts to the whole. Strength and power impressed 
him more than harmonious composition, and though sen- 
sible of the poetic his taste was faulty. In his produc- 
tion of King Lear he omitted the Fool. He misinter- 
preted the character of Sardanapalus in his presentation 
of Byron's tragedy, and he •erred repeatedly in his esti- 
mite of the relative importance of the parts in some of 
Bulwer 's plays. But Macready 's greatness, in his art is 
evidenced by the fact that every succeeding actor has 
copied his interpretations even when he was wrong. 

A pardonable desire for self display, combined with 
a distrust of the abilities of his supporting company, 
caused him to insist upon the augmentation of the im- 
portance of the character he elected to personate regard- 
less of other considerations, and his phenomenal ability 
frequently won success for plays thus mutilated. The 
important changes made by Bulwer at the request of 
Macready were generally unwise and injurious. 

The Duchess de la ValUere was mangled, the third act 
being compressed into a single scene. 

The Lady of Lyons was not subjected to any altera- 



308 PLAYS OF BULWER 

tion, for Macready was unprescient of its possibilities, 
took little trouble over its production, allowed it to be 
acted as written and experienced a double surprise when 
it proved popular and he realized that it was a gift. 
Later managers have dropped the first scene, thereby- 
omitting the display of Pauline's haughtiness, which is 
the provoking cause of Beauseant's resentment, and de- 
priving the audience of that glimpse of the unamiable 
beauty, which prepares them for the treatment Mel- 
notte 's messenger receives. 

Richelieu was twice rewritten, and entirely trans- 
formed under the stimulus of Macready 's criticisms and 
suggestions, and the resulting play is probably an im- 
provement on the original design, although in plot and 
construction the work became more tenuous than any 
other of its author's productions. 

The alterations in The Sea Captain enabled Macready 
to make his part the dominant feature of the perform- 
ance, but that distorted the work, for the Countess- 
Mother is the greatest and most impressive character 
and, properly personated, the Poor Cousin would rival 
the Captain. Macready misjudged Money and instead 
of carrying out the author's purpose and treating Sir 
John Yesey as the master character, he transferred that 
dignity to the more amiable part of Alfred Evelyn, 
which he appropriated but disliked. 

Of the many playwrights who had dealings with Mac- 
ready, Bulwer alone never resented his criticisms and 
always respected his opinions. Their friendship contin- 
ued through life. Macready was a frequent guest at 



CONNECTION WITH THE STAGE 309 

Knebwortk, and Bulwer's admiration for the Roscius 
of his time never abated. 

His experiences, however, destroyed whatever illusions 
he may once have had regarding the stage. He discour- 
aged his son's desire to write plays. "It would absorb 
and vulgarize him. Its success has no honor nor renown 
and its damnation is infernal. ' ' To Sir "William Eraser, 
who asked his counsel about a contemplated play, he 
said, ' ' I feel sure that you would write a very good com- 
edy. I feel, also, certain that you would sit in the stalls 
perspiring with horror at the manner in which it was 
played." 



THE ACTING PLAY 

A PLAY is a combination of poetry and spectacle 
representing and explaining an event or story 
- which some interrupting incident complicates by 
causing a conflict of passions in the principal characters 
and suspending or changing the indicated consumma- 
tion. 

It appeals to the emotions, not to the intellect. 

The characters are the most important evidences of 
the playwright's creative ability. They should be ap- 
prehensible possibilities but not recognizable familiars, 
and their actions and development should be conse- 
quences of the experiences to which they are subjected, 
their conduct under the changing circumstances eon- 
forming to what is regarded as probable. 

To secure attention to the characters a play should 
contain not only a variety of appropriate and unusual 
incidents following each other naturally, and each hav- 
ing some effect upon the action, but also, situations em- 
phasizing the salient points of the story, and providing 
occasion for the manifestation of emotions and passions, 
under the stress of which the characters are developed 
and the resulting consequences made to appear inevit- 
able. 

Concentration is the imperative necessity of the play. 
On the stage "life is the verb to do" and languor in ac- 
tion or excess in speech becomes tedious and destroys il- 



THE ACTING PLAY 311 

lusion. Not only language and incidents, but even events 
must be condensed for the sake of effectiveness — a duel 
interests, but a battle only confuses. 

A play addresses a large and miscellaneous audience, 
and gesture and movement accompany the spoken words, 
which should be consistent with the varying capacities 
of the characters represented, and convey a meaning 
easily understood by all. Subtle, super-refined and at- 
tenuated expressions may be properly used in private 
conversation, or where not the many but the one is ad- 
dressed; to be effective in plays the language chosen 
must be bold, vigorous, terse, and dignified. 

The players join the most fitting action of which they 
are capable to such perfect expression as they can com- 
mand in performing the parts assigned to them, avoid- 
ing palpable imitation, for on the stage attitudes, move- 
ments, utterances, entrances and exits differ from those 
in actual life. Thinking aloud — soliloquizing — is an 
absurdity off the stage ; there, it is not only effective and 
appropriate but conducive to rapidity of movement, since 
it allows of the revealing of purposes and feelings in less 
time than would be required for the unfolding of these 
in dialogue and action. 

The players supply the physical qualities of the char- 
acters, and only slight deviations from the normal can 
be satisfactorily assumed ; and the period of time repre- 
sented as elapsing in a play must be a restricted one to 
allow of its adequate indication, because the simulation 
of the change in personal appearance resulting from 
the passing of years, severely tasks the actors' skill in a 
minor but necessary department. 



312 PLAYS OF BULWER 

The purpose of a play should be achieved by sugges- 
tion rather than by preachment. The results of habits 
and indulgencies, the effects of passions, and the im- 
portance of pnidence and self-control — exhibited in the 
fates of the characters represented — have the superior 
effectiveness which example ever has over precept. 

The heroic takes its inspiration from conduct tran- 
scending the ordinary in magnanimity and grandeur. 
Actions exceeding in ruthlessness and selfish purpose the 
common experiences of mankind originate the tragic. 
Incongruous lapses from the normal in appearance, dress, 
or behavior produce the comic. 

Comedy leaves to the play the heroisms and crimes 
which because of their effects upon the race, need serious 
and impressive treatment; and, taking for its purposes 
the follies, vices, and affectations which are sins against 
society, assumes the duty of amending conduct while 
amusing the audiences it attracts; and by banter and 
ridicule seeks to make unpopular the practices it selects 
for satire. 

It generally takes its illustrations from the generation 
contemporary with its production, but it is not debarred 
from availing itself of whatever advantage in costume 
or decoration a previous age may offer, nor are serious 
situations and dialogue excluded from its means and 
effects provided these arise naturally from the progress 
of the action. Its characters are generalizations from 
many individuals fused into typical specimens of classes. 
It is more familiar in manner and less compact in struc- 
ture than the play and it makes use of surprise as an 
effect. 



THE ACTING PLAY 313 

Only in the instances where the obnoxious propensi- 
ties or absurd peculiarities which it ridicules perpetu- 
ally recur, is comedy assured of more than a transient 
appreciation, and it is always subject to the disadvantage 
of having its purpose of amendment lost sight of or ob« 
soured because of its more evident aim of amusement. 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIEBE 

AN early episode in that grandiose epic of artifice 
/•\ and intrigue — the reign of Louis the Fourteenth 
-*- -^ — furnished the material for the tragic play of 
The Duchess de la ValUere. 

In the flush of his early successes, before glory had 
palled or power wearied, the gracious and idolized Louis 
showed his admiration for one of the ladies of the court, 
by promoting the young beauty who regretted that he 
was a king to the position of favorite, and making her 
a duchess. 

The craving for amusement and change which grew 
with his increase in importance and magnificence and 
necessitated the transference of his court to the more 
imposing palace at Versailles, after a few years caused 
the Grand Monarque to transfer his favors and atten- 
tion to the more pretentious Mme. de Montespan. The 
forsaken La Valliere thereupon took the veil and as a 
Carmelite nun spent the remaining thirty years of her 
life in penance and austerities. 

The play sets before us glimpses of that dazzling court 
where pomp, pageantry, ceremonial obsequiousness and 
the adulation of all who were distinguished by genius or 
beauty ministered to the egotism of a prepossessing and 
generous king whose enviable personal advantages were 
enhanced by his happy facility in uttering tactful com- 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIERE 315 

pliments, but whose mental resources were in pitiable 
contrast to the gorgeousness of his state. 

The creatures of that court are displayed as brilliant, 
polished, but heartless schemers for place and power, 
skilled in flattery and intrigue, esteeming the privilege 
of being near the king as the height of human felicity, 
and regarding the world outside Versailles as rude, bar- 
barous, and unworthy. For the rule of Louis the Four- 
teenth, consummating the policy of Richelieu, centralized 
power and authority in the king and made him not only 
the fountain of honor but also the dispenser of patronage 
and preferment, and the well-born who declined to de- 
base themselves into courtiers were left without voca- 
tions, and as a consequence of careers being denied to 
aU outside the monarch's silken circle active civic use- 
fulness ceased to animate men and virtue died in women. 
This evil of despotism is illustrated in the characters of 
Mme. de Montespan and Lauzun. Beauty degraded into 
a plaything becomes wasteful, conscienceless, and flaunt- 
ing. Intellect deprived of opportunity to ascend scin- 
tillates and corrupts in the dust. 

La Yalliere endured the splendor to which she had 
been advanced, but retained a keen sense of her equiv- 
ocal position and never became indifferent to the re- 
proaches her transgression deserved. The epithet ten- 
der was generally applied to her. A resigned sadness 
characterized her demeanor, she sought vainly for con- 
solation, and her real feelings were a bitter commentary 
on the envy she excited. Her sacrifice was repaid by 
desertion and humiliation, and the cloister became a wel- 
come refuge to the friendless and broken-spirited woman 



316 PLAYS OF BULWER 

to whom the world had become distasteful because of her 
experience at Court. 

La Vallieres are by no means rare in the ranks of 
young womanhood. A propensity to regard self-sacrifice 
as good in itself irrespective of its motive is common and 
in some instances induces a sanguine belief that such a 
proof of devotion will ensure a lasting reciprocation in 
affection, and the results are always disastrous. Those 
in whom the heart is stronger than the head have the 
greatest need of the protection which the conventions of 
society have established and in all cases where these 
usages are disregarded sorrow and misery are the conse- 
quences. This is the warning lesson of this play. 

Bragelone is the finest and greatest of the characters, 
in him the disappearing old warrior nobles have a wor- 
thy representative, brave, loyal, unselfish, and sincere, 
his natural dignity and manliness brought into contact 
with the falsely-great humbles and reduces to their pro- 
per proportions both courtier and king. Lauzun in his 
presence shrinks into an ignoble jester, Louis is awed 
into a superstitious trembler. His only weakness is his 
ill-placed affection, and it is in conformity with the tra- 
ditions of his class that when dishonor comes near him, 
he sickens of the world and adopts the cowl of the monk. 
Prompt in. act, fearless and stem in the discharge of 
duty, he quits his militarj'- career to assume a humbler 
labor, denounces the monarch for his vices, shows La 
Valliere that to temporize is to be dishonest, and guides 
and aids her harsh journey through renunciation to re- 
pentance. 

Lauzun has an importance beyond what is disclosed in 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIERE 317 

his easy and supercilious progress among courtiers whom 
he moves and uses and despises, for he shows what al- 
ways happensi to intellect when it is constrained to min- 
ister to the caprices of one instead of promoting the im- 
provement of all. With capacities qualifying him for 
useful activity in the state, the circumstances of his time 
compel him to be a courtier, dwarf his powers and restrict 
his development until he becomes indifferent to all that 
is high and ennobling, scornful of virtue and content to 
gratify his vanity by sarcasm, scheme, and petty tri- 
umphs over insignificant rivals who nevertheless are able 
to irritate and thwart him. 

The interest of the work is a consequence of the al- 
ternation of passions and mental struggles, love and con- 
science are in perpetual conflict in La Valliere, and loy- 
alty contends with the sense of wrong in Bragelone. The 
strongest scene is that between king and monk, the ef- 
fective situations are at the close of the second act and 
at the end of the play. The catastrophe — the self bur- 
ial of a young and beautiful woman — is singularly awe- 
inspiring and impressive. 

The play opens at the La Valliere home, an old cha- 
teau surrounded by vineyards and woods, near a river 
which reflects the setting sun, and neighboring a convent 
the turrets of which are visible in the distance. Mother 
and daughter are having their last evening together for 
on the morrow Louise goes to the court. Bragelone, her 
betrothed, enters, war calls him again, and he will not 
have to linger forlorn amidst the gloom her absence will 
cause. Their years are scarce well-mated, the soft spring 
in hers and o 'er his summer already autumn creeps, but 



318 PLAYS OF BULWER 

her sire betrothed them, his heart has never wandered, 
and in her youth he hoards his own. And so well he 
loves that if her heart recoils from their union she need 
but speak and his suit will be dumb. She believes him 
the noblest of France's chivalry, has pride in his friend- 
ship, honor in his trust, but her heart whispers not the 
love which should be the answer to his, and wishing 
neither to pain nor deceive him she asks him to forget 
her. He finds that his soul is less heroic than he deemed 
it. He cannot accept this dismissal, he will be content 
to love and wait, absence will plead his cause, the con- 
trast between the courtier-herd and one faithful to God, 
to glory and to her, will be in his favor and he will await 
the time when she will bid him not forget her. At the 
behest of her mother Louise places her sicarf round 
Bragelone's hauberk, bidding him wear it for the sake 
of one who honors worth, and with restored hope the sol- 
dier departs. 

Bertrand in the armory of the Castle of Bragelone 
is polishing a sword, a trenchant blade not of the mod- 
ern fashion and therefore appropriate for his lord. 
There is a notch in it which he would not grind out, for 
it marks the stroke received when Bragelone saved the 
king. The warrior gladdens his old servitor by telling 
him that after this campaign they will find some nook 
wherein to hang their idle mail and rest from labor, and 
he charges Bertrand to train the woodbine around the 
western wing of the castle because she loves it. 

In an antechamber at Fontainebleau Lauzun and 
Grammont converse about the court's new beauty and 
Lauzun begins plans for profiting by what he foresees 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIERE 319 

will be the result of La Valliere 's innocent fancy for th.e 
king. 

The next scene is at night in the gardens, which are 
brilliantly" illuminated. The king enters, followed by 
his retinue. To Lauzun he expresses his interest in the 
youngest of the graces, fair La Valliere, and learns that 
in himself this young Dian sees the embodiment of her 
girKsh dreams. While they converse La Valliere and 
other maids of honor are seen approaching, and monarch 
and duke hide in one of the bosquets. As the ladies pass, 
the king emerges, takes La Valliere 's hand, owns that he 
has overheard her and prays that she will not divorce the 
thought of love from him who, faithful still to glory, 
swears that her heart is the fairest world a king could 
conquer. Beseeching him to forget her, protesting that 
she is but a simple girl who loves her king but honor 
more. La Valliere leaves him, his passion inflamed by her 
modest coyness. 

The queen and her guests enter, and as a prelude to 
the banquet a divertisement to shame the lottery of life 
is begun, the pavilion opens and discovers a temple with 
Fortune enthroned in the centre and on each side a vase 
over one of which merit presides and over the other 
honor. The guests draw lots from merit which are ex- 
changed for gifts from fortune. The king draws and 
receives a diamond bracelet, which he clasps upon La 
Valliere. The court ladies utter depreciating comments 
upon the new favorite. 

The second act begins in the gardens. Disquieting 
rumors have reached Bragelone, who has left the camp 
and sped hither. He will not even suspect La ValKere, 



320 PLAYS OF BULWER 

but he may warn and protect her. Lauzun in reply to 
his questions confirms the evil reports, rouses Bragelone 's 
anger, is disarmed and forced to retire. La Valliere en- 
ters seeking the king. The soldier recalls to her the 
maid he loved, now advanced to too high a position for 
shame, and become the object of courtiers' envy. She de- 
clares the aspersions false and regrets that she came to 
court. Bragelone denounces the ungrateful monarch but 
is interrupted by her exclamations, and her agitation 
makes it plain that she loves Louis. Bragelone describes 
the ideal she had always embodied to him, the regard in 
which he had held her, the indulged hopes now over- 
thrown. To lose her he could bear, but with his hopes 
he loses all confidence in virtue and is sick at heart. 
She pleads with him to advise and help her and be still 
the friend. She can fly from the dangers of the court to 
her mother. He answers that the king can reach her there, 
and that if she earnestly desires to fly from gorgeous in- 
famy to tranquil honor the convent alone can shelter her. 
But she shrinks from the thought of the cloister where 
she would nevermore meet those eyes nor hear that voice, 
and Bragelone asks her to take back her scarf since this 
gift is worthless now, and turns to depart. She begs that 
she may see the king but once, after which she will seek 
the convent. The soldier warns her that heaven will ac- 
cept no such composition — vice flrst and virtue after- 
ward ; he bids her think of her mother, and La Valliere, 
weak when she loves, shows that proportioned to that 
weakness is her power to conquer love, and bids him take 
her hence. 

Lauzun is receiving rewards from his monarch when 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIBRE 321 

Grammont enters and announces the flight of the duch- 
ess. Louis is roused; he will tolerate no interference 
with his desires, he will reclaim La Valliere. Who 
stands between the king and her he loves becomes a trai- 
tor and may find a tyrant. 

In the chapel of a convent La Valliere kneels before a 
crucifix. It is night, and a storm is raging, the thunder 
and lightning without less fearful than the tempest and 
war of passion within. A trumpet sounds, the clatter of 
steeds is heard and the opening of the great gates which 
are only unbarred for royalty. The king enters. La 
Valliere begs him to be merciful and leave her. The ab- 
bess seeks to protect her charge but Louis claims the 
right free and alone to commune with the maiden whose 
pleadings fail before his protestations. She loves; who 
loves trusts, and to his entreaties and promises she yields 
and is borne from the convent. 

The third act has its early scenes in the palace of the 
duchess de la Valliere. A few years have changed both 
circumstances and feelings. Lauzun has developed lev- 
ity, and become more selfish. La Valliere has changed 
from the girl who anticipated a glad and ennobling fu- 
ture, to the woman who has experienced the world's fa- 
vors and found them apples of sodom, and Louis from 
the promise of Fontainebleau has grown into the Grand 
Monarque, wearied with himself, burdened with his own 
glory, and vainly desiring relief from ennui. Lauzun 
has not won the power he looked for from the favorite's 
friendship and therefore he is plotting with a more pli- 
ant rival, Mme. de Montespan. The second scene dis- 
closes Louis and La Valliere at chess. In the mimic as 



322 PLAYS OF BULWER 

in the real war he proves victor, but his brow is less 
serene than usual, and he accounts for his gloom by the 
news just received that France has lost a subject kings 
might well mourn, one who merited all favor and scorned 
to ask the least, the brave Bragelone. La Valliere 's agi- 
tation and distre^ arouse the king's curiosity and re- 
plying to his questions she tells him of their early be- 
trothal, blames herself for his death, and begs permission 
to retire. Louis regards this manifestation of sorrow for 
another as a personal affront; he desires diversion, not 
tears, in the bower ; he is displeased that another had her 
first love and perceives that the hours grow long when 
passed in her presence, that sighs and tears make a dull 
interlude in passion's short-lived drama, and that he 
needs amusement, therefore he will seek Lauzun, who 
never causes yaAvning. The duchess returns to assure 
the king that henceforth she will keep sad thoughts for 
lonely hours, but finds he has gone, and she entrusts her 
friend Mme. de Montespan with a letter to his majesty, 
acquaints her with the cause of the king's displeasure, 
and asks her to explain and promise that sad news shall 
not again mar the music of his presence. De Montespan 
uses her opportunity and information as steps to her own 
advancement and in discharging her mission supplants 
La Valliere. 

The fifth scene is at the palace at Versailles. The 
queen slights the favorite, and De Montespan gives evi- 
dence of her newly acquired influence. The king, con- 
versing with the duchess, puts aside her plea for for- 
giveness with the remark that wounded feeling is not 
displeasure, and commends her friend De Montespan, to 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIBRE 323 

whose side he presently moves. Lauzun approaches La 
Valliere and directs her attention to the favor with which 
the king is honoring her friend. The duchess is per- 
turbed, thinks he cannot mean evil, yet he lingers, he 
whispers, and she is unhappy. The king announces a 
repetition of the fetes of the carousal and La Valliere 
takes heart again, for there he wore her colors, though 
she gave them not; now she offers them but his majesty's 
service is vowed elsewhere. Lauzun 's timely counsel to 
give the envious crowd no triumph enables La Valliere 
to bear without disclosing how acutely she feels the hurt 
and shame of her betrayal. 

The fourth act has its opening in the gardens of Ver- 
sailles. Lauzun is embarrassed by debts which he plans 
to discharge while further advancing himself by mar- 
riage with La Valliere, and he prays the king to sanc- 
tion his suit. Louis, disbelieving in the possibility of 
one who shrank from him wedding the wildest lord that 
ever laughed at virtue, permits him to go and prove his 
fortune, but his jealousy is aroused. Lauzun knows the 
sex, is wise and witty. Marriage would be a balm to 
conscience and an excuse for change, and therefore best 
for both; yet still the king is curious and wonders will 
she accept him. 

La Valliere in an apartment of her palace, unwilling- 
ly realizing that the king prefers another, muses on the 
sacrifices she has made — and their reward. Her mother 
sleeps the long sleep and it is hard to be alone on earth ; 
despair has taken the place of hope, and the world is 
hateful. Lauzun is announced and she anticipates news 
of the king, but as he proceeds to inform her that Louis 



324 PLAYS OF BULWER 

would fain see her link her lot with one whose aJffiection 
would be her shelter, and has permitted his suit and bade 
him prosper, her disappointment crushes; her, she sinks 
down and covers her face, to every entreaty of Lauzun 
she can only murmur "he bade thee prosper," she will 
not subject the duke to the debasement of being refused 
by one at once fallen and forsaken, and she leaves him. 

Bragelone in the habit of a Franciscan friar seeks 
audience with the duchess, tells her of the soldier-lover 
who pardoned her desertion but sunk at what he termed 
dishonor and sends back by him the token he had once 
so gladly worn. La Valliere interrupts him ; in the tone 
of his voice and in his presence she detects something 
kindred to Bragelone. He proclaims himself the brother, 
of whom she had doubtless heard, who early tired of the 
garish world, fled to the convent's shade and found re- 
pose. Then she calls upon him to be what Bragelone 
would be were he living, a friend to one most friendless, 
and beseeches him to counsel and guide her. Continu- 
ing his narrative he acquaints her of her mother's last 
hours, watched over by Bragelone, who by 'invoking ten- 
derer remembrances won a blessing on her child instead 
of the meditated curse. La Valliere can bear no more ; 
heartbroken she rushes from the room. 

The king is heard approaching. Bragelone's hand 
mechanically seeks the sword he no longer wears. Louis 
enters and there ensues an intense and powerful denun- 
ciation of the monarch's acts, his deeds are recounted in 
terms very different from those used by courtiers and 
cardinals. To the humble minister of God, Louis the 
great is one who has betrayed his trust, beggared a na- 



THE DUCHESS DE LA VALLIERE 325 

tion but to bloat a court, seen in men's lives the pastime 
to ambition, looked but on virtue as the toy for vice. 
The king bids him add to the beadroU of his offenses that 
when a foul-mouthed monk assumed the rebel the mon- 
ster-king forgave him, but is told that his changing hue 
belie his haughty words and is called upon to awaken 
from the dream that earth was made for kings, mankind 
for slaughter, woman for lust, the people for the palace. 
The fate of Charles of England may await a descendant 
of Louis, and when sages trace back the causes they may 
find the seeds which grew to the tree from which the 
scaffold was shaped, in the wars, pomp, and profusion 
of a heartless court. Bragelone leaves the king awed 
and disconcerted and striving to justify himself to him- 
self. Impatience to know hoM^ Lauzun had fared in his 
wooing had] prompted the visit of the king, and now re- 
covering from the fear and surprise of his interview with 
the monk he calls for wine and bids the duchess be ap- 
prised of his presence. When Louis avowsi his wish that 
La Valliere should wed she promises to obey him, her 
choice will be a nobler one than Lauzun, but not yet 
shall he learn it. The king departs and the monk is 
summoned to guide her back to peace. 

The fifth act opens with De Montespan, Grammont, 
and courtiers in the garden of Versailles discussing La 
Valliere 's departure for the convent, and the failure of 
Lauzun to repair his fortune by marriage with the de- 
serted favorite. De Montespan, exasperated by this 
tribute to her rival, threatens to use her influence to 
Lauzun 's injury. In the old home La Valliere, accom- 
panied by Bragelone, is regretfully recalling her fonner 



326 PLAYS OF BULWER 

happiness, her mother's fondness and her lover's affec- 
tion. To the expression of her yearning for pardon from 
Bragelone he responds by disclosing himself and ex- 
plaining the reasons for the course he had pursued. 
With one murder less upon her soul La Valliere has no 
further dread of the cloister. The fourth scene takes 
place in the convent of the carmelites. Louis would pre- 
vent La Valliere from becoming a nun and has sent 
Lauzun in advance of himself to delay the ceremony. 
De Montespan accosts Lauzun and receives the king's 
letter of dismissal from the court. The sixth scene is in 
the chapel of the carmelites with the service of renuncia- 
tion which is interrupted by the entrance of the king, 
who forbids the rites. He is confronted by Bragelone, 
but La Valliere descends from the altar and listens to 
Louis's entreaties and promises, without being moved 
from her purpose. The king has dismissed her rival and 
will know no other love, and though he was never more 
dear to her, she remains firm. For Louis she left in- 
nocence ; she now leaves Louis for heaven. Her heart is 
the nun already. Unmanned, reproaching himself as 
the cause of her self-immolation, and overcome with emo- 
tion, the king receives his victim's last farewell and de- 
parts. The ceremony proceeds and at last her bridal 
robes are exchanged for the garments of the sisterhood. 
La Valliere approaches Bragelone and, kneeling, asks 
him to bless her who as the poor nun is less unhappy 
than as the Duchess de la Valliere. 



THE LADY OF LYONS 

THE LADY OF LYONS is an unpretentious play 
depicting the very commonest of emotional con- 
flicts but presenting tkese vividly and under con- 
ditions which touch the chords of memory and unseal 
the fount of sympathy. Its embodiments of beauty and 
strength in the glow, vanity, and egotism of youth are 
little removed from ordinary characters except by their 
eloquence, until their relative position of injurer and in- 
jured is reversed. Then the steadfast resolution with 
which the discipline of duty as perceived by each is ac- 
cepted, and the constancy maintained under trial, lift 
both to the heroic. 

The play is a glorification of love — not the frantic 
fever to which Bichat allotted a duration of two years, 
but the transforming influence which awakens dormant 
capacities and high resolves and dignifies through pa- 
tience, devotion, and discipline. Here that power changes 
a haughty and unamiable girl into a trustful and for- 
giving woman : causes a peasant to become an enthusiast 
for self -improvement in the romantic hope that one above 
him in fortune will deign to accept his hand, and after 
insult has provoked him to an unworthy revenge leads 
him to atone for the wrong by self-denial and exile, and 
then advances him to equality with the woman whose 
grace inspired his early efforts, whose memory sweetened 
his later toils. 



328 PLAYS OF BULWER 

The plot was suggested by a tale called The Bellows 
Mender. It is the story of a proud young beauty who 
rejects the addresses of two suitors because they are not 
of sufficiently important station, and marries one whom 
they impose upon her in the disguise of a prince, who is 
really a peasant whom her disdain has embittered and en- 
raged. But because the gardener 's son loves the haughty 
maiden and discovers that she is less heartier than he 
had believed, he repents of his misdeed and seeks to re- 
pair it by restoring her to her parents. Her anger at 
the fraud practiced upon her gives way to admiration 
of his earnestness. His contrition and self -blame move 
her pity, he has won her heart, and because of his devo- 
tion and generosity she elects to remain with him and 
sacrifice her pride. He, however, desiring to deserve 
her preference and regain his own self-respect, makes 
separation inevitable by joining the army, and she re- 
turns to her father 's house. After two and a half years, 
during which he has won wealth and promotion, he 
comes back in time to prevent a marriage with one of the 
old suitors which she is about to contract as a means of 
saving her father from bankruptcy. He discharges all 
obligations, reclaims his bride, and is welcomed into the 
family which formerly resented his pretentions. 

Pauline, an embodiment of modern middle-class fem- 
ininity, inherits from her mother disdain for her own 
class, extravagant ambition and excessive pride, and 
these faults are nourished by the admiration her beauty 
excites and the deference her father's wealth commands. 
Of duty she has only an indefinite and vague apprehen- 
sion. She has no instinct of race and therefore finds 



THE LADY OF LYONS 329 

gratification in humiliating others; no nobility of mind, 
consequently neither incentive to usefulness nor enthusi- 
asm for worthy achievement. Physical beauty unrefined 
by moral perception or intellectual culture, and her 
father's wealth, she regards as title-deeds to high rank 
and position, and to marry a prince is a sufficient object 
in life. 

Her pride is crushed when she finds herself the victim 
of a mortif jdng indignity, but when she discovers that 
tenderness, eloquence, and magnanimity exist elsewhere 
than among the wealthy, the knowledge that a strong 
man loves her awakens appreciation and she desires to 
equal his unselfishness, relinquish luxury, and descend 
to her husband's station. The self-denial which pre- 
vented this sacrifice completes the conquest of her pride, 
makes constancy a religion and reunion a hope. The 
threatened ruin of her family constrains her to desert 
her trust, but it also ennobles her character, for unwil- 
lingly she complies with the demand of a higher duty, 
and at the moment of doom her woe is changed to joy. 

Claude Melnotte watched the growing beauty of Paul- 
ine as she moved among the flowers in the gardens where 
he worked, and for qualities which his fondness attrib- 
uted to her in profuse abundance he worshiped from 
afar. His exalted estimate of her goodness and kindK- 
ne^ impelled him to efforts in self -culture and the ac- 
quirement of accomplishments which distinguish him 
from his class in speech, appearance, and deportment. 
Frank, vivacious, and enthusiastic, a favorite of all and 
the pride and comfort of his mother, he nurses a poet's 
dream, and puts a soldier's confidence in its fulfillment. 



330 PLAYS OF BULWER 

The contempt with which his verses are rejected awakens 
a desire for revenge, and in his anger he becomes the in- 
strument by which his rivals seek to disgrace the beauty 
of Lyons. He plays the part of prince successfully, is 
ready in speech, profuse in gifts and exuberant in inven- 
tion. He captivates Pauline and then learns that in 
seeking to punish a girl's ambition by ridicule he has 
treacherously won a woman's heart. The enormity of 
his offense overwhelms him, he would fain retreat and 
spare her the shame and himself the sin of his fraud. 
Forced to carry out the letter of his oath, his audacity 
and confidence desert him, he can no longer exult in 
what seemed a deserved retaliation, and with heavy 
heart, in bitter sorrow, he conducts his bride to his 
mother's home, confesses that he has tricked and duped 
her, and that he is the gardener's son. But her love is 
her salvation. She shall be freed from the bondage 
fraudulently put upon her, his mother will protect her 
until her parents are brought, and he will assume all 
blame and bear all punishment. He discourages her evi- 
dent willingness to forgive and accept him as husband, 
for he is undeserving, and he wishes to save her from 
suffering, therefore he becomes really what he has al- 
ways been in idea, a soldier. He goes to the wars, strives 
manfully to redeem his name and makei himself less un- 
worthy of her regard, and in time succeeds and consum- 
mates a union in which there is no longer any shame. 

Pauline's beauty charms and her wrongs enlist sym- 
pathy, but Melnotte is the finer character, and the fluc- 
tuations in his feelings are more varied and morally in- 
teresting. She is first a luxurious girl, infatuated with 



THE LADY OF LYONS 331 

titles, then the woman who loves but once and forever, 
then the deceived victim, indignant but forgiving, then 
the devoted bride reluctantly parting from one more be- 
loved because of his guilt, and lastly, the dutiful daugh- 
ter sacrificing all her hopes and happiness. 

He from the wondering boy grows into aspiring youth, 
indulging an extravagant fancy and building upon its 
realization. Stung by contempt when he anticipated 
responsive admiration, he becomes angry and unjust and 
conspires to punish her whose contumely he construes 
into insult. He exults in his masquerade as prince and 
wooer until he finds that the man and not the title has 
won her affection. Then the shame he designed for her 
recoils upon himself and his suffering is intensified by 
her undreamed-of gentleness. Contrite, repentant, and 
determined to redeem his name, he welcomes the oppor- 
tune offer of a soldier's career and in action wins fame 
and promotion. When his purse disconcerts his rival, 
his happiness begins. He regains the wife whose love he 
won by guile, but her respect has been earned by deeds. 
Few plays have exerted as much influence as The 
Lady of Lyons. Many a merchant's daughter, inspired 
by the example of Pauline, has bought with her father's 
wealth the title under which some spurious creature 
masqueraded the while he exhibited a knowledge of no- 
bility curiously like that of Melnotte, combining prodi- 
gality in expenditure, parsimony in truthfulness, con- 
versational audacity, and a f aciUty in representing him- 
self as of importance. 

The play opens in the merchant's house. Pauline is 



332 PLAYS OF BULWER 

reclining on a sofa, her maid under her mother 's instruc- 
tions is arranging flowers in her hair. Beauseant is an- 
nounced. Pauline's attractions outshining all at last 
night's ball have made him desire her as wife and he pro- 
poses for her hand. He is disdainfully rejected and 
after he has gone the mother congratulates her daughter 
on the judicious condescension with which she declined 
the offer. Damas enters, rallies Pauline on her last 
night's triumphs and on the effect of her charms on 
Glavis and Beauseant. The mother snubs the soldier and 
tells him that such as these are no match for her daugh- 
ter. 

Beauseant drives a few leagues into the country to 
dissipate his chagrin, and meets Glavis at a village inn. 
Accounting for his preoccupation he confesses that he 
has been refused by Pauline, a tradesman's daughter, 
and learns that Glavis has had the same experience. 
They are startled by shouts of "Long live the prince," 
and the landlord explains that Melnotte, who has just 
won the prize in the shooting-match, is always called 
prince because he is a genius, wears fine clothes, is brave 
and strong and has such a proud way with him. The 
landlord further confides to his guests that Melnotte is 
in love with the beauty of Lyons, though he has never 
spoken to her. Beauseant at once conceives a plan to 
humble Pauline by introducing this fictitious prince un- 
der some foreign title and bringing about a marriage. 

Melnotte shows his prize to his mother. It is another 
stage in the ambition to be worthier to love Pauline. She 
wears the flowers he sends anonymously and that has 
encouraged him to pour his worship into poetry and send 



THE LADY OF LYONS 333 

the signed verses to her, and he anticipates that she will 
return an answer bidding him advance himself and hope. 
Then he will become a soldier, make headway, win fame 
and come back with the right to approach her. Gaspar, 
his messenger, has had the letter he conveyed contemptu- 
ously returned and he has been beaten for his impudence 
in presenting it. Melnotte in anger tears the letter and 
is voicing his indignation at the insult put upon him, 
when a message from Beauseant is delivered, offering to 
secure the realization of his hopes if he will swear to 
marry her he loves and bear her to his cottage on his 
wedding night. Eager to return scorn for scorn Mel- 
notte acceptsi the proposition. 

In the second act Beauseant and Glavis in the gardens 
of the merchant are felicitating themselves on the suc- 
cess of their plot, grumbling at their prince's extrava- 
gance and scheming to bring affairs to the desired finish 
quickly lest some interference bring about discovery. 

Melnotte as the prince of Como evidences his readi- 
ness, exuberance, and generosity by turning the soldier 's 
pronunciation of Italian (which he does not understand) 
into ridicule, and giving away with unconcern a ring 
and a snuffbox, both of great value. With Pauline he 
talks of ancestry and birth as only deserving admiration 
when they are the incentive to exertion. She asks that 
he tell her again of his palace by the lake of Como, and 
he, evading her request, describes with glowing eloquence 
the home to which could love fulfil its prayers his hand 
would lead her. She listens in an ecstasy of delight, ex- 
presses her bliss in being so beloved, and wonders who 
would not love him as she does. He bitterly retorts that 



334 PLAYS OF BULWBR 

it is the prince she loves, not the man, that had he paint- 
ed poverty, toil, and care, she would have found no 
honey on his tongue and he declares that is not love. 
She protests that though she might not have been won 
save through the weakness of a flattered pride, that now 
could he fall from power and sink — he interrupts, ' ' as 
low as that poor gardener's son who dared to lift his 
eyes to thee," and she replies that even then he would 
but become more dear, and he is conscience stricken ; he 
has won the woman's heart, when he desired to abase a 
girl's vanity. In the guise of a prince he has acted like 
a knave, and he goes out to seek from his fellow conspir- 
ators release from his oath. But it is too late. They 
have arranged that all shall be completed this day. 
Damas comes to correct his Italian. He has brought two 
swords and he forces a duel on Melnotte, who disarms 
him, restores his weapon, and wins his admiration. Beau- 
seant returns with Madame Deschappelles, greatly per- 
turbed. The Directory suspects the prince and may ar- 
rest him, therefore he must quit the town, and in order 
to spare the mother disappointment, a marriage must 
take place at once. Beauseant undertakes all arrange- 
ments, fetching the priest and having a coach and six at 
the door before the ceremony is over. Melnotte asks 
Pauline if she has no scruples, for it is not yet too late. 
She answers that when she loved him his fate became 
hers; triumph or danger, joy or sorrow, she will be by 
his side, and Damas wishes him joy and says he envies 
him. 

The first scene of the third act is at the village inn. 
Pauline is within, the carriage having broken down. 



THE LADY OF LYONS 335 

Beauseant and Glavis have come to gloat. They are ac- 
costed by Melnotte, who reminds them that he has kept 
his oath ; th,at they are done with him and his ; that he 
was Pauline's betrayer, he is now her protector; and he 
orders them to be gone. Pauline, uncomfortable in the 
inn where all are rude and boisterous, comes to Melnotte 
for safety and he begs her to accompany him to a cottage 
close at hand, where she will be more secure from vulgar 
eyes and tongues, and he leads her towards his mother's 
home. 

The widow has been apprised of their coming by a line 
so blotted she could scarce read it. She is bustling 
about preparing supper when they enter. Her greeting 
surprises Pauline, and further words make it plain that 
he is Melnotte, a peasant, and her anger rises, she hys- 
terically repeats his description of his palace, and per- 
ceiving herself the jeer and byword of all Lyons, bids 
him kill her and save his wife from madness, and de- 
mands his reason for crushing her so. Melnotte tells 
her that pride caused angels to fall before her time, and 
that because of pride the evil spirit of a bitter love and 
a revengeful heart had power upon her. He relates his 
early romance, his toils to deserve her love, his confes- 
sion and the disdain it received, the plot to humble her 
so eagerly furthered, his struggle, anguish, and remorse. 
He assures her that reparation to the full shall be given, 
that her fraudful marriage is void, that he will restore 
her to her parents and the law shall do her justice. He 
calls his mother and commits to her care their honored 
guest, and is left alone with his shame. 

The fourth act is at the cottage. Day is breaking. 



336 PLAYS OF BULWER 

Melnotte is Mnfiting. His mother approves of the course 
he has decided upon, and has no reproaches, but her 
heart bleeds for him. He goes to send oE messengers and 
Pauline joins the widow, noting his consideration in ab- 
senting himself. The two women converse. Claude is 
their only theme, and Pauline learns how long and fond- 
ly the gardener's son has worshiped her. Beauseant 
comes to the door, tells the widow her son wants to see 
her, then enters the cottage and urges Pauline to fly 
with him. Again repulsed, he draws a pistol and is 
about to seize her, when he is dashed across the room by 
Melnotte who has returned. Pauline faints at the sight 
of her husband's danger, but Beauseant retires with- 
out firing his pistol. Pauline recovers just as the wid- 
ow returns with the news that Monsieur Deschappelles 
and his friends are at hand. All Pauline's anger has 
vanished and her pride has changed. She is anxious 
to remain with Melnotte, and seeks to induce him to 
ask her to stay, but though his task is thus made 
harder, he will not take advantage of her goodness. Her 
parents and Damas enter and all upbraid the peasant. 
Melnotte reminds the soldier that he was spared when 
unarmed, and Damas, recognizing something fine in the 
fellow, ceases to taunt and seeks to aid. Melnotte gives 
to Pauline's father the necessary papers and promises 
to rid them of his presence and in some other land mourn 
his sin and pray for Pauline's peace. The widow begs 
him not to leave her ; no divorce can separate a mother 
from her son, and Pauline becomes courageous, declares 
all forgotten and forgiven, and announces her desire 
to remain. But Melnotte will not rob her of holier ties. 



THE LADY OF LYONS 337 

Her husband should be one who can look her in the face 
without blushing. He is not that man and he accepts 
Damas's offer of service in his regiment which starts for 
Italy at once. 

The fifth act is in Lyons. Two years and a half have 
elapsed and the soldiers are returning. Officers are dis- 
cussing Damas, who is now a general, and his friend 
Morier, who interests all by his melancholy, his valor, 
and his brilliant rise. Damas confides that Morier hopes 
to find a miracle in Lyons — a constant woman. Beau- 
seant passes and is accosted by the general, who learns 
that Pauline has consented to annul her marriage with 
Melnotte and unite herself to Beauseant. The papers 
are to be signed to-day and Damas is invited to be pres- 
ent. Melnotte joins Damas. He has heard the news and 
is despairing and in grief. The general suggests that 
Melnotte accompany him to the house. His dress, his 
cloak, his moustache and bronzed hue will prevent any- 
one from recognizing him, and thus he may see her and 
perhaps learn something. 

In a room of the Deschappelles residence Pauline in 
great dejection is thanked by her father for consenting 
to save his name from disgrace. Her repugnance to the 
step he has urged is so evident, that he will rather face 
the ruin than spoil her life, but she tells him she is not 
ungrateful, only human, and since there is no other hope 
she is prepared. Congratulations are a mockery ; she is 
reconciled to her doom. She appeals to Beauseant to be 
generous and save the father but spare the child. He 
replies that he has not the sublime virtue to grant her 
prayer. Damas enters and introduces Colonel Morier, 



338 PLAYS OF BULWER 

and while others are engaged with the hero the general 
gathers from Pauline the circumstances which compel 
the barter of her hand. Damas cannot help her, but 
Morier is the intimate friend of Melnotte and by him 
she might send some message to soften the blow. Paul- 
ine approaches Melnotte; she is ashamed and dare not 
look up at the colonel, who must despise her. She asks 
him to convey to Melnotte the assurance that she would 
rather walk the world by his side, work, beg for him, 
than wear a crown; that if he could read her heart he 
would pardon the desertion; that her father is on an 
abyss and calls his child to save him, and she must not 
shrink; they will meet in heaven. A few words with 
Damas acquaints Melnotte of the impending bankruptcy, 
and when the contract is about to be signed, he seizes and 
destroys it, putting forward his prior claim and giving 
more than the needed sum, and speaking in his natural 
voice, which is recognized by Pauline, who rushes into 
her husband's arms. It is quickly explained how as 
Morier he rose from rank to rank until he could again 
beai' his father's name spotless, and he is Morier no more 
after this happy day. 



RICHELIEU 

IN this heroic play the purposes and characteristics of 
the cardinal-statesman who made France great, and 
consolidated the power of its monarchy, are eluci- 
dated and displayed. He opposed a king 's passion which 
was fostered by his foes, and preferred to surrender 
power and allow his patriotic labors in recreating the in- 
stitutions of his country to be undone, rather than abate 
his resistance to a monarch's unrighteous design. The 
benefits he conferred and the motives which inspired him 
are recounted as his titles to renown, the courage and 
resolution with which he defied opposition and carried 
to completion his aims are shown as incentives to emu- 
lation, and the tenderness and disregard of kingly wrath 
manifested in the fulfillment of his duty as protector of 
the innocent are adduced as qualities which establish a 
fonder claim on human sympathy than the distresses 
which accumulated upon him. Santine's La Maitresse 
de Louis XIII suggested the plot, but the fable, inci- 
dents, and persons of the play bear little resemblance to 
those of the romance. 

A great character — combining hero, statesman, pa- 
triot, and priest ; a great event — a conspiracy to admit 
the foreigner into France ; great situations — a minister 
humiliated by his king, yet not quailing ; a cardinal in- 
terposing the Aegis of Rome between a monarch and his 



340 PLAYS OF BULWER 

victim; a dying statesman reanimated by power con- 
ferred anew — these receive adequate expression and rep- 
resentation in noble verse and virile figures to which 
have been imparted distinction, endurance, and anima- 
tion, the signs of the mind of a man. 

An oddity of effect pertaining to all dramatic repre- 
sentation is illustrated in Richelieu. The destiny of 
France is involved in the fate of the cardinal, the audi- 
ence is aware that the Spaniard will dictate at Paris if 
the conspiracy succeeds, yet the emotional response to 
the agony of the minister who foresees the coming woes 
is slight and limited in comparison to the ready and fer- 
vent sympathy evoked by the sorrows of Julie ; and it is 
the relation of the old man to the orphan — age guard- 
ing innocence — which arousesi general pity, not the mis- 
fortunes impending upon the country, nor the reverses 
of a devoted patriot. 

Richelieu is menaced by a conspiracy which seeks to de- 
stroy him, to tamper with the army in the field, and to 
use his ward who has charmed the king as an instrument 
to ensure success. He hastens Julie 's marriage with De 
Mauprat to thwart the domestic scheme, arranges to in- 
tercept a dispatch intended for the commander of the 
army and thus defeat the larger plot, and by an addition 
to the number of his guards he provides for his personal 
safety. But the cardinal's plans all fail, the marriage 
is annulled by Louis, Francois is despoiled of the papers 
and the captain of the troops turns traitor. 

Julie, separated from her husband and tempted by the 
king, seeks refuge with Richelieu, and De Mauprat en- 
ters the minister's castle bent on slaying him. Finding 



RICHELIEU 341 

his wife safe with her guardian and perceiving that he 
has been duped by his false friend, the chevalier becomes 
assiduous in defense. Enemies are everywhere, so the 
cardinal feigns death and the news is carried to the plot- 
ters at Paris, who to prevent possible confessions prompt- 
ly imprison the message-bearers. 

Richelieu's reported assassination gives encouragement 
to the conspirators and when, surprising all, he enters 
the presence of the monarch and reports the planned 
murder, his demand for justice is denied. Posts of honor 
are conferred upon the cardinal's foes, who promise to 
secure Julie's return to the court, and Richelieu, an- 
ticipating dismissal, and more enfeebled by fear for 
France if his policies are reversed than by his ailments, 
attends the king to surrender his portfolios. The report 
of conditions everywhere save in France alarms Louis 
and he perceives that his court has no capable successor 
to the cardinal whose life appears to be ebbing away. 
Francois has recovered the lost dispatch and brings it to 
Richelieu, who desires the king to read it. Learning 
from this document the real designs of his pretended 
friends and his own imminent danger, Louis begs his old 
minister to live and rule with absolute power, and, re- 
vivified by the restoration to authority, the cardinal 
rises, orders the arrest of the conspirators, issues in- 
structions to the envoys, wins clemency for Julie and De 
Mauprat, and resumes his position as minister of France. 

The incidents which are links in this chain of events 
increase in importance, impressiveness, and poignancy as 
the action progresses, and each discloses a different phase 
of the many-sided patriot-priest. His familiar unbend- 



342 PLAYS OF BULWER 

ings with Joseph and his resignation to a state of phys- 
ical weakness, since he is able to wield a mightier weapon 
than the sword, are followed by the revelation of his 
minute information, his earnestness, and his grim irony, 
together with his rapid appreciation of manliness in De 
Mauprat. The soliloquy wherein he defends his use of 
equivocal means by the glorious ends accomplished, un- 
folds his ambition and designs, and discloses the latent 
justice which denies happiness to him. His ardent in- 
terest in the young gives warmth and gentleness to the 
grave but encouraging words by which he restores con- 
fidence and hope to Francois. His colloquy with the king 
is distinguished by the sustained dignity with which he 
recounts his services, sweeps aside all rivalry, asserts his 
confidence in future justice, and proudly disdains all 
temporizing. His defiance of Baradas is matchless for 
its denunciatory intensity. And the potency of his will 
to triumph over bodily exhaustion is startlingly evi- 
denced when with the new grant of power fresh life 
seems to invigorate his frame and he rises from his couch 
to crush his foes and complete his projects. 

The figures whose cooperations and antagonisms at- 
tract attention to and from the great cardinal are such 
as the circumstances ajid the time associated with the 
minister. The shrewd, tactful, and unscupulous Ca- 
puchin Joseph, the eager, devoted, and persevering 
Francois, the frail confidence-betrayer Marion, and the 
traitor-spy Huguet are such instruments as Richelieu 
availed himself of — for beneficent ends using devious 
means — and they reflect the enthusiasm he inspired in 
those to whom he deigned to be gracious. Julie arouses 



RICHELIEU 343 

the deepest interest, the innocence, grief, and danger of 
the young wife make a stronger appeal to emotion than 
the vicissitudes of the statesman, for she is a representa- 
tive of the race and her peril comes home to all, he of 
the passing generation, and political misfortunes are 
only comprehended by the few. The fatherly tenderness 
of the old man to the young orphan wins sympathy for 
both which deepens into awe when he throws around her 
the august protection of the Church. De Mauprat, the 
frank and highminded chevalier who, misled by the sus- 
picions plausibly insinuated by his rival, is confused into 
doubt, error, and almost into crime, is a worthy specimen 
of that noblesse which cheerfully dared all danger and 
preferred death to baseness. The unstable Gaston, Bar- 
adas, the ennobled knave inebriate with unmerited suc- 
cess, De Beringhen, whose chief business in life is eat- 
ing — these envious coveters of power, who by their con- 
trast to the austere demeanor of Richelieu win temporary 
favor with the timorous, selfish king, are the complaisant 
and sycophantic creatures natural to such a court as that 
of Louis XIII. 

Richelieu's personality dominates the play, and his 
designs, methods, and traits of character are compacted 
into a comprehensive portrait which impresses by its 
qualities of grandeur and concentrated will. And though 
the cardinal is exhibited only in kindly and noble ac- 
tions — evincing human emotion in fatherlike cherishing 
of the weak and moral strength in his devotion to a sub- 
lime abstraction — the alloy of evil in the aspiring states- 
man is not ignored ; the fact that men conspired against 
his rule is but one indication of grave faults in the min- 



344 PLAYS OF BULWEE 

ister and he reveals his own consciousness that undue 
severity has accompanied the carrying out of his meas- 
ures. 

The creation of a united and powerful France was the 
object of Eichelieu's every act and thought. He disre- 
garded an agonizing disease and overtasked a feeble con- 
stitution in his endeavors to compass that achievement. 
His agents were spies, courtesans, and priests, he was 
ruthless in dealing with opposition and sent many to the 
headsman, but never one who was not an enemy to France 
— no merely private foe was ever his victim. And de- 
spite the caprices of an ailing king whose bodily in- 
firmities rivalled his own, despite intrigues, plots, and 
treasons, before he died, worn out at fifty-seven, he had 
established order, reformed the administration, de- 
stroyed feudalism, exacted restitution from the Church, 
enlarged the army, created a navy, and made France 
safe, strong, and paramount among the nations. 

The white-haired, deep-eyed, sharp-visaged man whose 
pain-racked frame housed an indomitable will and a 
large-visioned mind was a strange blending of seemingly 
incongruous qualities. Ever oscillating between ex- 
tremes of arrogance and humility, sternness and play, 
courage and timidity, high ambitions and petty desires; 
subjecting France to iron rule he submitted to tyranny 
from his own domestics. The most powerful of states- 
men, he yearned for fame as a poet. When the queen- 
mother visited him he received her capped and in the 
purple. Her majesty stood and he sat. "When a half- 
dozen mediocre authors were engaged in criticising his 



RICHELIEU 345 

verses, they were seated and wore their hats while the 
cardinal stood bare-headed. 

His manner was as variable as his moods. His move- 
ments were at times quick and impulsive, at others lan- 
guid and slow. At one moment he seemed a dying 
man, soon he would display unusual vivacity and energy. 
The scornful contempt long bestowed upon rivals would 
suddenly be abandoned for a serious appraisement of 
their merits. He could be a gay flatterer, an adroit 
courtier, an impassioned orator, and he knew how to 
praise. Generally fervidly earnest in discourse, he did 
not disdain the resort to familiar cajolery, and cynical 
irony was a frequently used weapon. 

His judgment of character seemed unerring. The men 
whom he preferred to office proved themselves able, loyal, 
and worthy, and his penetration into motives and rapid 
decision as to actions were as remarkable as the thorough- 
ness with which he kept himself informed of antagonistic 
movements. 

In displaying the patriot-minister, a juster view of the 
man is presented than is usually adopted by writers. 
Bulwer's characterization of Richelieu is the result of in- 
dependent study and research. He condemned the nu- 
merous exaggerations of the cardinal's cruelty and wrote 
as follows in accounting for the deeper impression cre- 
ated by his punishments than his achievements : 

' ' Compare the One Man with the Multiform People, — 
compare Richelieu with the Republic. How much wiser 
in his generation is the One Man! Richelieu, with his 
errors, his crimes, his foibles, and his cruelties, marches 



346 PLAYS OF BULWER 

invariably to one result and obtains it ; — he overthrows 
but to construct — he destroys but to establish ; — he de- 
sired to create a great monarchy, and he succeeded. The 
People — with crimes to which those of the One Man 
seem fair and spotless, — with absurdities which turn 
the Tragedy of Massacre into Farce, — with energies to 
which all individual -strength is as the leaf upon the 
whirlpool, — sets up a democracy as the bridge to a des- 
potism. And suddenly the Soldier with the iron crown 
of the Lombard fills, solitary and sublime, the vast 
space where the loud Democracy roared and swayed. 
And this because in the individual there is continuity of 
purpose. The One is a man, the Many a child. 

"Like all men who rise to supreme power, the great 
Cardinal had the characteristics of the time and the na- 
tion that he wielded. In his faults or in his merits he 
was eminently French. He represented the want of the 
French People at the precise period in their history in 
which Providence placed him as its tool: he reduced 
provinces into a nation: he forced discordant elements, 
whether plebian or patrician, into order ; he did not make 
the people free, nor were they fit for it ; but out of riot- 
ous and barbarous factions he called forth orderly sub- 
jects, and a rough undeveloped system of civil govern- 
ment. He never once appeared as the enemy of the Mul- 
titude : his- cruelty was directed against their enemies. 
In an early state of civilization the worst foe to the 
country is the powerful baron, whose intrigues are 
hatched under the helmet, and whose threat is civil war. 
The traitor to the King is in these times the traitor to 
the country. The silken and graceful Cinq Mars, in re- 



RICHELIEU 347 

belling against the monarch who had heaped him with 
favors, aims at introducing the foreigner into France. 
In all those contests for power, in which we see the worn, 
anxious, solemn image of the Cardinal-Minister, with 
his terrible familiars of Spy and Hangman, he is still 
on that side where the French Nation should have ranged, 
building up the school beside the throne, and making at 
least a State, though the time and the men had not yet 
arrived for the creation of a people. But it was pre- 
cisely because his cruelties (with some rare exceptions 
when his religious opinions, in common with those of the 
Catholics of the age, pushed him into intolerance) were 
exercised, not against the mean but the great, that in the 
very rank of their tyrants the ignorant multitude saw 
greater cause for compassion, and condemned the rigid 
severity that alone preserved them from feudal outrage 
and civil war. It is true that Richelieu was often thus 
personally unpopular, but that is the general lot of those 
who boldly and sternly represent the People." 

The play opens in the house of Marion de Lorme, which 
the conspirators have chosen as the safest meeting place. 
Baradas has arranged that at the given signal Bouillon 
with his army will join the Spaniards, march on Paris, 
dethrone the king, install Orleans as regent and con- 
stitute a new council calling their friends to the impor- 
tant positions. To assure complete success, Richelieu's 
assassination is necessary and Baradas charges himself 
with the duty of procuring his removal. De Mauprat 
has been playing at dice while the conference was pro- 
ceeding. He has lost heavily but shows no sign of dis- 



348 PLAYS OF BULWER 

appointment. There is something in his demeanor that 
provokes curiosity and Baradas determines to learn what 
secret causes his contrasting behavior; presuming on 
their boyhood intimacy he questions De Mauprat, who in- 
forms him that he daily expects a summons to the gal- 
lows, that he participated in one of Orleans' revolts, and 
was omitted from the general pardon by the cardinal, on 
the ground that in one enterprise he had acted without 
orders, for which death is the penalty; that Richelieu 
had given him opportunity to change the traitor's scaf- 
fold for the soldier's grave and sent him against the 
Spaniards, but seeking death he could not die ; and when 
the cardinal reviewing the troops beheld him he grimly 
observed that he had shunned the sword, but the axe 
would fall one day. Baradas thinks he has here the in- 
strument for slaying the cardinal and invites him to join 
the conspiracy and assist in freeing France from the 
tyrant, but De Mauprat refuses to be an assassin. Riche- 
lieu is needed, he is not. Further queries lead Baradas 
to discover in his companion a rival in love, and he de- 
termines to make him a victim since he will not be a 
murderer. As they are leaving the apartment the agents 
of the cardinal arrest Dei Mauprat ; his suspense is over. 
Richelieu and his confidant, Joseph, are discussing the 
new conspiracy of which spies have informed them. 
Their penetration enables them to see many weaknesses 
in their foe's arrangements, and one detail angers the 
minister. His orphan-ward has charmed the king, and 
Baradas schemes to make her useful by marrying her as 
a cloak for the king's designs, and that indignity the 
cardinal determines to prevent. Julie is announced, and 



RICHELIEU 349 

Rickelieu questions her, fearing that she may care for 
the king or for Baradas. Her answers reassure and con- 
vince him. that De Mauprat is the object of her prefer- 
ence. He bids her forget him. Huguet reports that De 
Mauprat waits below and Julie manifests a betraying 
concern and anxiety, begging the cardinal not to rank 
Adrian among his foes. She is told to wait in the tap- 
estry chamber while the chevalier is interrogated, and 
De Mauprat is brought in. Richelieu reminds him of the 
clemency shown him three years ago requited by evil 
living, wassail, gambling, dishonesty, and fraud. De 
Mauprat indignantly demands that these words be un- 
said, and Huguet, waiting behind a screen to protect the 
cardinal, raises his carbine. With a wave of his hand 
Richelieu deters Huguet, remarking : ' ' Messire de Mau- 
prat is a patient man and he can wait. ' ' Turning again 
to the chevalier he tells him the amount he owes, and 
says he must pay his debts. De Mauprat 's answers are 
bold, frank, but respectful, and please the cardinal, who 
rising impressively describes the condition in which he 
found his country, his labors to recreate France, the jus- 
tice of his rule, and the evil judgments men circulate 
about him. He declares he intends to make De Mauprat 
his champion to confute the detractors; he shall be rich 
and great, and in return shall accept from Richelieu a 
brida whose dower shall match but not exceed her beau- 
ty. The chevalier demurs, he has no wish to marry. 
Richelieu charges him with loving his ward Julie, which 
De Mauprat admits, advancing that as a reason why he 
cannot consent to other nuptials. He would rather meet 
the fate he looked for. Rapidly and sternly Richelieu 



350 PLAYS OF BULWER 

orders Huguet to conduct his prisoner to the tapestry 
chamber. Then Joseph is instructed to prepare the 
house by the Luxembourg for a bridal present for Julie, 
who weds tomorrow. De Mauprat, expecting death, has 
found himself in the presence of the woman for whom 
he braved it, and doubtful of their good fortune Julie 
and he come forward, are assured that they are not 
dreaming, and the cardinal blesses his children. 

The second act begins in De Mauprat 's new house. 
Baradas, intent on ruining his succe^ful rival, has com- 
municated both the secret of his unexpiated offense and 
his marriage with Julie to the king, who has declared 
the nuptials contrary to law, and has ordered De Mau- 
prat, on penalty of death, to refrain from communicat- 
ing with Julie. Baradas persuades De Mauprat that 
he has been snared by Richelieu, that the pretended 
favors are blinds to facilitate the suit of the king, who 
is infatuated with Julie, and he again urges the cheva- 
lier to join the conspiracy and revenge his wrongs while 
delivering his country. De Mauprat is confounded and 
distracted and requires time to think. The sight of man 
is loathsome, and he goes into the gardens. Meanwhile 
Julie has been summoned to the Louvre and this extra- 
ordinary command, together with the perturbed and 
strange behavior of her husband, cause anxious misgiv- 
ings. De Mauprat returning finds that his wife has 
gone in the king's carriage. The insinuations of Bara- 
das seem confirmed, and concluding that he has been 
misused and outraged by Richelieu, he joins in the plot 
to destroy him. 

Particulars of the conspiracy are accumulating and 



RICHELIEU 351 

the cardinal's contemptuous levity is changed by the 
information Marion de Lorme brings to him and he rec- 
ognizes that there is danger which it will tax his re- 
sources to circumvent. A dispatch is to be sent to Bou- 
illon, and the interception of that document would place 
the cardinal's foes in his power. Marion can choose the 
messenger and Francois is entrusted with the duty of 
receiving it, and because another agent is needed, against 
Joseph's advice Huguet is to be promoted to greater 
power. That individual overhears that certain personal 
requests he has made are to be promised as an incentive 
to faithfulness, but not complied with because too un- 
reasonable, and therefore he becomes a traitor. 

The third act discloses Richelieu in a gothic chamber 
of his castle, reading and soliloquizing about his own 
career and acts. He has done great things by such in- 
struments as he could command. These have not always 
been commendable, but no selfish aim has ever degraded 
his ambition. All his energies have been expended for 
France, yet happiness has not rewarded his efforts. 
Francois enters hastily and asks the cardinal to punish 
him, for he received the package but it was wrested 
from him by an armed man who avowed designs on Rich- 
elieu 's life. The cardinal tells him the treasure meant 
honor, which is more than life ; that he must track the 
robber and regain the despatch ; he has not failed, 
there's no such word as fail; and with renewed courage 
Francois goes back to his task. Julie comes for protec- 
tion. The king having commanded her attendance at 
the palace, at night sought her chamber and when re- 
pulsed sent Baradas, who told her that De Mauprat 



352 PLAYS OF BULWER 

knew the king's purpose and deemed it honor; and she, 
recalling her husband's mystery in words, looks, acts, 
begins to see an imposter where she had loved ,a god. 
Richelieu remarks that he thinks she wrongs De Mau- 
prat, but bids her proceed. She relates how the queen 
preserved her and secured egress from the Louvre, how 
she hastened to her home and found it desolate and so 
came hither. The cardinal assures her that she Avrongs 
her husband and conducts her to her room. When Riche- 
lieu returns he is menaced by a figure in complete 
armor who threatens death. Undauntedly the cardinal 
proclaims that earth has no parricide who dares in 
Richelieu murder France, and asks what cause has led 
to such a purpose. The intruder relates his tale of sup- 
posed wrongs, bids the cardinal expect no mercy, and 
lifting his visor reveals De Mauprat. With lofty pity 
Richelieu shows how he has been duped, calls Julie as 
proof of his statements, and composes their misunder- 
standing. De Mauprat, perceiving his error, now be- 
stirs himself to save the cardinal, whose castle is filled 
with armed foes. Escape being impossible, Richelieu 
eke's out the lion's skin with the fox's and feigns death. 
As other conspirators burst into the room the doors of 
the recess wherein he lies are thrown open by De Mau- 
prat, who cries "Live the king, Richelieu is dead!" and 
eager for promised reward, all rush back to Paris with 
the tidings. 

Orleans and De Beringhen, dubious of the success of 
the plot, are arranging for their own safety if the plans 
miscarry. Baradas has prepared for the quick punish- 
ment of his agents if they succeed. Huguet brings news 



RICHELIEU 353 

of Richelieu's murder and demands the promised re- 
ward. He is sent, a gagged prisoner, to the Bastile. 
Francois reports the theft of the despatch by an armed 
man who watched without. In alarm they conclude this 
must have been De Mauprat and order Francois to find 
him. 

In the fourth act Louis XIII appears. He half re- 
grets Richelieu's death, not knowing who can govern 
France ; he is half glad that a restraint is removed from 
his oviTi actions; he pities himself because on so prom- 
ising a day it would be indecorous for him to hunt, and 
he resents the loss of Julie, which he attributes to the 
cardinal's want of love for him. De Mauprat, eager to 
punish Baradas' duplicity, enters in search of that con- 
spirator. Francois asks him about the despatch, but be- 
fore an answer can be given Baradas is seen, and De 
Mauprat orders him to draw and they are fighting when 
the king enters. Baradas protests that his crime was 
self-defense and informs the monarch that his adver- 
sary is Julie's husband. De Mauprat is ordered to the 
Bastile. At this moment, to the consternation of king 
and courtiers His Eminence the Cardinal Richelieu and 
his attendants enter and De Mauprat calls upon the 
minister for protection. The cardinal takes the writ 
from the guard. Louis, determined to exercise author- 
ity himself, confirms the sentence and De Mauprat is re- 
moved. In the meanwhile Francois has elicited the name 
of him to whom the despatch was given. Richelieu 
fiercely demands uninterrupted audience with the king, 
who, prompted by Baradas, persists in disregarding the 
minister's demand for justice, and leaves him disgraced 



854 PLAYS OF BULWER 

and powerless. Joseph suggests to Richelieu that he 
should have been less haughty, relates fresh instances of 
the activities of their foes, and sees that nothing can save 
them now but the production of the despatch. Julie de- 
mands her husband, who saved the cardinal's life. Riche- 
lieu, more concerned for her trouble than his own, tries 
to comfort her, but has to tell her that De Mauprat is 
in the Bastile. Joseph acquaints her with the king's 
anger and the present inability of Richelieu to help any- 
one. A courtier comes commanded by the king to pray 
Julie's presence. Richelieu orders him away, and is 
leading his ward out when Baradas comes to enforce the 
king's orders. The cardinal with terrible energy turns, 
and threatens him with the curse of Rome if he or any- 
one dares to approach her. The effort exhausts the weak- 
ened old man ; he sinks and appears to swoon. The cow- 
ering Baradas regards his fainting as an indication of 
failing powers, but he retires knowing that his head is in 
jeopardy. 

In the fifth act, Joseph fails in an attempt to bribe his 
way to Huguet. De Beringhen has better success and 
good-naturedly obtains admission for Francois, who rep- 
resents himself as Huguet 's son. De Beringhen by force 
secures the package and as he emerges from the prison- 
er's cell Francois seizes and struggles with him. 

Baradas and Orleans see all their plans near realiza- 
tion, their only disturbing fear being lest the despatch 
finds its way to Richelieu. The king makes Baradas min- 
ister and confers upon Orleans the baton of his armies. 
Julie petitions the monarch for her husband 's life but is 



RICHELIEU 355 

referred to Baradas, who promises to free De Mauprat 
if she will become his wife, otherwise her husband 's fate 
is sealed. Julie offers to separate from De Mauprat and 
enter a convent if his life is spared, but Baradas declares 
he will not lose her, and orders De Mauprat to be 
brought in a prisoner to pass to death unless she saves 
him, and he seizes Julie's hand. That touch decides 
them — they choose death. The cardinal, apparently on 
the verge of the grave, attends the king to deliver up the 
ledgers of a realm and spare his majesty some pains of 
conscience by resigning office. As one by one the secre- 
taries describe the condition of their departments, about 
which Baradas has no practical advice, affairs appear so 
critical that the king repents the change he has made, 
since there is no one else with Richelieu's ability. 

The cardinal is very weak. In depriving him of power 
they crush his heart and his enfeebled frame can scarce 
sustain the agony with which he perceives his policies 
which have made France great being thrown to the 
winds. Francois has been wounded but he brings the 
despatch to Richelieu, who hands it to the king, whom it 
most concerns. Louis reads and discovers the pur- 
poses of his supposed friends. The cardinal sinks su- 
pine. The king, alarmed, beseeches him to live to re- 
sume sway and reign with absolute power. Revived by 
restoration to his place and authority, Richelieu rises, 
gives quick instructions to the secretaries, orders Bara- 
das away, "he has lost the stake," destroys the death- 
warrant of De Mauprat and bids Julie embrace her hus- 
band. The king observes peevishly that one moment 



356 PLAYS OF BULWER 

makes a startling cure and Richelieu replies that the 
might of France passed into his withered frame in that 
moment. 

The conspiracy is foiled, the cardinal is restored to 
power, and Julie and De Mauprat are forgiven. 



THE EIGHTFUL HEIR 

THE story of the sin of a mother whose undue par- 
tiality for a younger son impelled her to deny and 
attempt to defraud her firstborn, is utilized in this 
tragic play to show the defeat of a fraudulent design by 
affection, and the withering of worthy ambitions by re- 
morse. Its characters fill important stations in the so- 
cial life of the haughtiest days of England's nobility. 
Its period is that of the Spanish Armada and its catas- 
trophe the sacrifice of wealth and title — the things men 
value more than life. It is rich in incident, sentiment, 
and situations. 

Poems which take for their subject the acts of per- 
sons previously distinguished, more quickly win favor 
than those wherein the author creates his characters. 
Unknown heroes excite only a limited interest until time 
has enlarged our familiarity with them so as to make an 
impression of reality. The personages of The Rightful 
Heir are unusual but enduring varieties of human life, 
but they have not the foundation in the actual which se- 
cures inunediate faith in their existence. 

The chief and highest character is the Countess-mother 
whose preference for the offspring of a second marriage 
leads her to plot against the firstborn, and nearly causes 
the destruction of both. The combination of pride, iron 
will, and waxen heart, the opposition of an affection 



358 PLAYS OF BULWER 

which, circumstances surround with dignity, against a 
love never ardent and only revivified by admiration and 
sympathy, her ambition and her weakness, provide emo- 
tional conflicts of an uncommon kind. She is proud of 
her name, her station, her ancestry, her repute, and 
haughtily stern to everyone but her favorite son. The 
memory of her early imprudent marriage is reminiscent 
of humiliation and shame ; the child of her low-born hus- 
band never had much of her love nor any of her atten- 
tion and his reported death years ago was the more read- 
ily credited because it relieved her of the dread of de- 
grading disclosures. The child born of more august 
nuptials was hers entirely, the recipient of her care, the 
reflection of her pride, the object of her ambitions, her 
comfort and her companion. The habit and custom of a 
life made the latter -born the best beloved. 

When Vyvian relates his history she realizes that he 
is her son, that they both have been deceived, cheated, 
and wronged, and her heart yearns to comfort and claim 
him, but the remembrance of the other to whom luxury 
and wealth have become necessities, makes her resolve to 
temporize and if need be repudiate the elder and pre- 
serve the inheritance for her younger son. Calling craft 
to her aid she seeks to hinder discovery by the lure of 
marriage with Eveline and immediate departure in Vy- 
vian 's ship. 

Thwarted through the machinations of the poor cou- 
sin, pleaded with and confronted by proofs, her denials 
and rejection grow weak before the earnestness and ten- 
derness of Vyvian. And the war of two affections ends 
in the displacement of the favorite, but the generosity of 



THE RIGHTFUL HEIR 359 

the heir is as great as his love ; he relinquishes his rights. 
He has found the mother he sought and that suffices. 

When Vyvian's disappearance and Claxence's dejec- 
tion arouse in her the fear that a crime she suspects but 
dare not name has robbed her of one son and imperilled 
the other her emotions and anxieties become tragically- 
intense. After all else seems to have been lost she would 
yield up her own life to save that of Clarence. 

The poor cousin whose abilities were suppressed and 
denied scope and opportunity because of his nearness to 
a great inheritance is an original and profoundly im- 
pressive character. His equivocal position enables his 
elders to disappoint his every youthful and pure ambi- 
tion and constrains him to restrict the activities of an 
aspiring mind to the services of more fortunate kinsmen 
whose mental inferiority he despises. The enforced de- 
pendent condition makes him coveteous, and humilia- 
tions to which he is subjected embitter his disposition. 
The deference of others to the wealth he sees but does 
not share, their subserviency to his equals, their insolence 
to himself, make him a scomer of all. His talents de- 
generate into cunning, his passions into malice, his pride 
remains but is shown now in an ostentatious obtrusion of 
his poverty. The earldom which has prevented his use- 
ful activity is regarded as his due and the lives whose 
rights interfere with his are obstructions to be removed. 
He employs his intellect in weaving plots to secure his 
succession and stings those who have fared better than 
himself. The apparent success of his schemes turns his 
head, and from indulging anticipations of coming great- 
ness he begins to fancy himself already in possession and 



360 PLAYS OF BULWER 

rehearses the part as he intends to play it, and when all 
his plans are frustrated, his scorn of humanity survives 
his failures and he desires to be buried in the grave of 
his dog. 

Vy vian 's characteristics partake of those of the adven- 
turous men of his day. The enthusiasm of the poet, the 
chivalry of the knight, and the daring of the sea-rover 
blend in the youth who, trained by a priest, was incited 
to become a sailor by wild tales of new-discovered lands. 
Perplexed by mysteries of his life, yearning for knowl- 
edge of his parentage, surviving misfortunes, hardships, 
and danger, and acquiring wealth despite all his handi- 
caps, the first brief interval of rest is devoted to the search 
for his betrothed and enquiring into his birth. Rejected 
by the mother so longed for, his tenderness gives way to 
passion and he dares the threatened indignity with which 
his appeal is received, but when the countess, quailing 
before his determination, admits his claim, his affection 
resumes dominance and his native magnanimity prompts 
the surrender of all he might claim, for wealth and title 
he sought not, and they are of little worth compared to 
the mother he has gained. 

The younger son is more than a passive agent, haughty, 
imperious, and courageous as befits one taught to brook 
no rival, to endure no superior, his hopes and purposes 
are patriotic and lofty, his speech frank and undissimu- 
lating, and, until another is preferred by his cousin and 
favored by his mother, he is worthy of his race. Art- 
fully worked upon by the poor cousin he forces a quarrel 
upon Vyvian and horrified at the unexpected conse- 
quence becomes a prey to remorse, shunning those whose 



THE RIGHTFUL HEIR 361 

actions he had been emulous of sharing because deeming 
himself the doer of a dishonorable deed. All that his 
mother's fondness sought to secure him was valueless, 
and he a burden to himself until Vyvian's return, dis- 
sipating dread and grief and peril, restored his hopes by 
clearing his honor. 

In the first act Sir Grey de Malpas, my lord's poor 
eousin, learns from a hireling that the heir to Montre- 
ville, whose death he had plotted years ago, is alive and 
in the neighborhood. This is a third between himself 
and the earldom, and he has again to scheme for his re- 
moval. Vyvian, the heir, having heard that fighting is 
put off, but hoping that the rumor is false, sends one of 
his officers to learn the truth from Drake, and occupies 
the interval by endeavoring to learn something of his 
birth, and visiting his betrothed. To save time he asks 
his lieutenant to apprise the priest who reared him of 
his landing and then hastens to the castle which isi Eve- 
line's present home. The countess has dreamed of her 
son who died ten years ago, and is perturbed. Her fa- 
vorite, Clarence, asks about Eveline and is rebuked. It 
is not meet that he should haunt the steps of one who 
cannot be his wife. The young man disclaims all thought 
of wedlock but wants the society of their ward when he 
returns from hunting, which now attracts him. Eveline 
is warned by the countess not to build serious expecta- 
tions on Clarence's flattering attentions, because for him 
high destinies are anticipated. Sir Grey informs the 
countess that her eldest son is not dead as was reported, 
that he lives and is coming hither, and that she must de- 



362 PLAYS OF BULWER 

tain him as guest until they can arrange to secure and 
destroy all proofs of his rights, Eveline is musing on 
her absent lover, and wondering where he is, when Vy- 
vian enters and answers her questions. The love scene 
which follows is ended by a beautiful eulogy of the sea. 
He is introduced to the countess and they enter the castle. 

Seated at table, the sailor relates some of his adven- 
tures, jesting merrily at his misfortunes but distressing 
the countess by these relations, which show the heartless- 
ness of his parents. The recital of his punishment by 
the pirates is a magnificent declamatory passage. The 
lovers are seen by Clarence, who is maliciously told by 
Sir Grey that the stranger's suit to Eveline is approved 
by his mother. Clarence imperiously interferes, is dis- 
regarded by Vyvian, and draws his sword, when the 
countess commands him to abstain from such unseemly 
conduct and dismisses Sir Grey to soothe and mollify 
him, then because of this dangerous rivalry she proposes 
to Vyvian that he marry Eveline at once, and bear his 
bride away in his ship. She will in the meantime sharp- 
en law, explore the mystery of his birth, and discover 
his parents. Thus the terror of a mother will be re- 
moved and Eveline and himself made happy. Messen- 
gers bring Vyvian news that the Armada has sailed and 
that he is wanted by Drake. The countess' plan cannot 
therefore be carried out; Vyrian must meet his foster- 
father, say farewell to Eveline and hurry to his ship. 

Vyvian learns from Alton, the priest who watched 
over his childhood, that Lady Montreville is his mother, 
and is given letters and documents proving his birth. 
At once he hastens back to the castle. Sir Grey discerns 



THE RIGHTFUL HEIR 363 

him advancing rapidly and whispers to the countess that 
his eagerness may arise from having learned his birth 
from Alton. She interrogates Clarence as to his willing- 
ness to accept a less luxurious station and his answer 
that if he fell it would be after the Roman fashion on 
his sword's point hardens her resolution to defend all 
for him. Sir Grey betrays the countess' scheme to Clar- 
ence, who forces a quarrel on Vyvian, St. Kinian's cliff 
being selected as the place. There Vyvian hopes to clasp 
a brother, and when Eveline anxiously questions about 
Clarence's purpose, he throws away his sword and as- 
sures her that both will be safe for one wiU be unarmed. 
Sir Grey and his hireling have heard all, and a great pos- 
sibility reveals itself to the poor cousin. His instrument 
is instructed to track the brothers but not to interfere 
until in the duel one is slain. Then his testimony will 
convict the other and this calamity will kill the countess 
and the poor cousin will become Earl of Montreville. 

In the interview between Vyvian and his mother, she, 
determined to protect her youngest son at all risks, de- 
nies the claim, and would leave the presence of the man 
who declares himself her son. Before his earnestness and 
proofs her resolution is weakened, but remembering Clar- 
ence she turns fiercely, denounces Vyvian as an impostor 
and calls her people to eject him. Her rejection arouses 
his wrath. He defies her anger and dares her threats. 
Realizing the certainty of injurious publicity if she per- 
sists, the countess dismisses her servants and becomes the 
petitioner. She confesses that he is her son but entreats 
him to renounce her and accept a huge dowry with his 
bride. He refuses to give up the mother so longed for, 



364 PLAYS OF BULWER 

and she, foreseeing that Clarence will not survive the 
loss of all he has been taught to regard as his own, pre- 
pares to abandon all to Vyvain and bids him take his 
revenge. Revolted by her unkindness to himself, his re- 
sentment is mitigated by the evidence of her tenderness 
for Clarence, and to the mother who misjudges his af- 
fection and desires, he gives the papers which jeopardize 
her favorite's future and turns to leave her. His gener- 
osity breaks down her determination; she acknowledges 
and blesses him, though aware that by her act she dis- 
possesses Clarence. But the heir declares that her bless- 
ing was the birthright he desires and having won that, 
Clarence is welcome to all the rest and they may deem 
him dead. Clarence at the tryst impatiently awaits his 
rival and the hired bravo is there to compass the de- 
struction of the survivor. Vyvian's ship signals for him, 
and he is hastening towards it, but Clarence intercepts 
him and insists on fighting. Backing away from the 
lifted sword the sailor loses his footing and falls over the 
cliff; the bravo crawls after him. Vyvian's ship sails 
away. 

A year later Alton discovers that Vyvian was not 
among those who dispersed the ships of Spain and seeks 
Sir Grey to learn what befell when with the proofs of 
his heirship Vyvian came to claim his mother. The poor 
cousin artfully increases the priest's suspicions by ac- 
quainting Alton of the rivalry of the brothers. Vyvian 's 
lieutenant, now that war is over, seeks for his missing 
captain, and tracking his steps comes upon bleaching 
bones and articles of clothing belonging to Vyvian. Clar- 
ence has been a different man ever since the captain's 



THE RIGHTFUL HEIR 365 

visit. He has no longer either joy in exercise or ambi- 
tion for enterprise, and honors sought for him. by the 
countess are declined by the son on the ground that he 
is unworthy. His demeanor causes his mother to fear 
that some crime has wrought this alteration and she can- 
not avoid associating the guilt with Vyvian's visit. The 
constable, Sir Geoffrey Sejrmour, has been called to en- 
quire as to the missing Vyvian, and the discovered bones 
have been borne into the justice hall, to which the coun- 
tess and her son are sununoned. Sir Grey is active in 
the investigation. "With seeming reluctance he deposes 
to acts which inculpate, and elicits facts which make it 
seem that Clarence is a murderer. The counter at- 
tempts to protect her son but is confronted by Alton, 
who asks if she conspired to slay her firstborn and if 
Clarence knew that Vyvian was his brother. The young 
man, horrified, calls upon his mother to confute the slan- 
der, but the proofs are overwhelming, and Sir Grey is 
about to take his unfortunate relations into custody — 
the step which will make him earl — when an armed sol- 
dier comes opportunely, asserts that the bones are those 
of the instrument Sir Grey hired to commit murder, and 
explains how Vyvian escaped death. Sir Grey in des- 
peration draws his sword, reasserts that Clarence slew 
Vyvian, and offers to prove his charge by battle. The 
soldier removes his helmet and is recognized as Vyvian. 
He relates how after failing to reach his ship he joined 
Essex's expedition and has just returned a knight. 
Riches and title he has no need for, but his bride and 
his mother and his brother will share them. The world's 
most royal heritage is his who most enjoys, most loves, 
and most forgives. 



THE HOUSE OF DARNLEY 

UNDER this title, four actsi of an uncompleted play 
by Bulwer, with an incongruous addition by 
Charles Coghlan, were produced by John Hare 
at the Court Theatre, October 6, 1877. 

From internal evidence the work appears to have been 
written before 1842, but the possibility of a satisfactory 
production never presented itself during the author's 
lifetime and therefore it remained unfinished. 

It is a vigorous specimen of the playwright's crafts- 
manship; has poignant and strong situations and the 
characters give indications of great possibilities of de- 
velopment which are never realized because of the lack 
of the completing act. 

The mischief caused by indulging in jealousy, that 
phase of lunacy so prevalent with frivolous women, is the 
theme of the work, and the exposition of the great in- 
jury resulting from this evil passion would have furn- 
ished the binding interest, and supplied the material for 
the completing fifth act. 

Lady Juliet is infected with this form of dementia by 
the gossip of a designing relative and mistakenly con- 
cludes that she is wronged by her husband. She prompt- 
ly resolves upon a separation. He, hiding the hurt 
caused by this unexpected and undeserved return for 
much toleration and indulgence, consents to the over- 



THE HOUSE OF DAENLEY 367 

throw of his household hopes, and facilitates the execu- 
tion of her purpose, but the blight makes him indifferent 
to the future and incapable of giving his customary at- 
tention to his business affairs, which soon threaten to 
involve him in bankruptcy. Then he perceives the un- 
wisdom of allowing his love for an unworthy wife to 
make shipwreck of his reputation and career, and be- 
stirs himself to retrieve his business and fortune, now in 
extreme danger. Lady Juliet, hearing of his reverses, 
with a woman's inconsistency pawns all her jewels and 
pays the sum thus realized to his account. This unex- 
pected and unknown assistance staves off the run on the 
house of Darnley, and his own energetic resumption of 
activity effects changes which assure an early freedom 
from financial anxieties, but his confidence in himself is 
gone and his ambition has no further motive, and he de- 
termines to abandon business and with his daughter 
seek a new home in some foreign land. 

Only to this point is the story conducted, and modifica- 
tions in some of the scenes would have been necessitated 
by the concluding act. The fragment is but the draft 
of a play of which some portions would have received 
elaboration and others condensation, had the work been 
brought to a symmetrical completion. 

Sir Francis Marsden is reading the newspapers when 
Selby Fyshe calls upon him ; news, being the concerns of 
other people, has no interest for this gentleman who fe- 
licitates himself on not being injured by the calamities 
of others. Marsden craves excitement, fighting, politics, 
gaming, drinking, wine, love, which are all bores to 



368 PLAYS OF BULWBR 

Fyshe, who, however, is impressed with the tranquil 
qualifications of Miss Placid, whose uncle has left her a 
large legacy, half of which she forfeits if she refuses to 
marry him. Marsden congratulates him and solicits his 
good >\dshes regarding his Juliet, which Fyshe demurs 
to, because Juliet is married, and joy is high priced at 
Doctors Commons. Juliet is the wife of Darnley, a well- 
born, scholarly speculator who by daring and originality 
has acquired an enormous fortune. To his house Mars- 
den goes. 

Darnley is engaged with his head clerk, Parsons, plan- 
ning investments and giving reasons for steps which Par- 
sons considers imprudent. Mainwaring's school friend 
and intimate companion wishes Darnley would stop 
money-making and give more attention to domestic mat- 
ters, and especially curb Lady Juliet's extravagance and 
the constant attentions of Marsden. Darnley regards this 
advice as the result of the disappearance of his friend's 
sister, whose desertion worries and makes her brother 
severe. Lady Juliet and several guests including Mars- 
den come to examine the drawings for a new villa. 
Darnley disconcerts Marsden by his irony, but when 
they have gone is half inclined to call Lady Juliet back. 
She of her own accord returns, thinking he may wish 
her to stay at home, but he, desiring not to be selfish, 
contents himself with merely asking her to take their 
child with her. A lady calls to see Darnley, and Main- 
waring is in the way so he is dismissed and Darnley takes 
upon himself the task of finding shelter for her. 

Marsden learns from Fyshe that Darnley has rented a 
villa and installed therein a young and pretty female 



THE HOUSE OF DARNLEY 369 

whom he visits every day. Fyshe has an interview with 
Miss Placid, whose quietness charms him. When he 
takes his departure she, desiring to revolt him, perceives 
that her playing the fool will not do, and resolves on an- 
other covirse of action. MaiuAvaring, whom she cares for, 
is asked to counsel her, and shows that he would marry 
her even without fortune, but he is perturbed; Dam- 
ley's last and greatest venture has failed, and all who 
have demands upon him, chiefly Lady Juliet 's tradesmen, 
are making a run on him. Darnley tries to intercede 
with Mainwaring in his sister's behalf but is rebuffed, 
and urged again to curtail Lady Juliet's expenditures. 
Fanny, the daughter, asks Darnley to go to her mother, 
who has just heard that he has come in. Marsden is 
with Lady Juliet making theatrical love, when Darnley 
enters, and taking up some of Marsden 's phrases turns 
them into ridicule and in sarcasm describes Marsden 's 
present pursuit under the parable of a friend, and leaves 
the room. Lady Juliet, deeply grieved that her thought- 
less levity has stung her husband's heart, turns to dis- 
miss the cause of her folly, and Marsden, defending him- 
self and claiming that his accuser is a hypocrite, gives 
Julie the address he learned from Fyshe. 

The Lady in the Villa is visited by Lady Juliet, who 
determines to know the truth, makes vague charges 
which are not denied, and leaves confirmed in her sus- 
picions. The inin on the bank continues. Mainwaring 
takes all he possesses to the head clerk. Miss Placid pre- 
pares to shock Fyshe, and rehearses to Mainwaring her 
new role. In the midst of the relation of her adventures 
at a hunt Fyshe enters and is dumfounded. Lady 



370 PLAYS OF BULWER 

Juliet seeks Miss Placid, announces her intention to part 
forever from Darnley, and writes him a notification of 
her purpose. Darnley is exerting himself to provide 
supplies to meet the continual run when Lady Juliet's 
letter is brought in to him, and his coolness and stoicism 
fail. News of losses no longer affect him and he is pre- 
pared to give up. Main waring 's counsel encourages him 
to renewed effort ; he makes preparation for the protec- 
tion of his name, but his spirit is broken. 

Darnley seeks explanation from his wdf e, but her de- 
termination to give no reasons prevents anything but 
further complications, and her father is sent for to com- 
plete the details of the separation, and Darnley leaves. 
Marsden comes and entreats her to allow him to deserve 
the affection her ingrate husband has cast away. Darn- 
ley returns with Fanny, sees Juliet weeping, Marsden 
kneeling, and retires. Mainwaring enters, and outstays 
Marsden, and chides Lady Juliet for listening to a soft 
tongued knave when her husband is on the verge of ruin, 
ruin caused by her. She asks particulars; she will not 
leave her husband at present despite her wrongs. Main- 
waring tells her that supplies counted upon have failed, 
and a few thousand pounds would be worth more now to 
Darnley than half a million at other times. Lady Juliet 
brings her jewels, and asks Mainwaring to dispose of 
them and get the money to Darnley, but never tell her 
husband. Darnley consents to the separation, leaving all 
details to Lady Juliet's father, but retaining Fanny. 
Mainwaring joyfully informs Darnley that timely aid 
has enabled the house to meet all demands, and the panic 
is subsiding, and also assures him that Lady Juliet re- 



THE HOUSE OF DARNLEY 371 

tracts and repents. But Darnley is obdurate now; he 
saw Marsden at her feet, his \\'Tongs he cannot forgive ; 
henceforth his child shall be the only heart left him to 
cherish, with her he will go abroad. Lady Juliet, com- 
ing to her husband, hears his words and misapplies them, 
and as he goes out she swoons. 



r-p^] 



MONEY 

IHIS comedy satirizes a prevailing form, of toler- 

■ ated despicability, by displaying the quackeries 
-■" of one of its successful practicers, while ridiculing 
certain fashionable affectations by exposing the inferior- 
ity of the adopters in comparison with others who are 
natural, unpretentious, and unselfish. Variety of charac- 
ter and felicitous groupings of masses of individuals in 
effective situations are its most interesting features, but 
the structural beauty of the work results from the ade- 
quacy of the plot, the consistency of the incidents and 
situations, and the appropriate language by which the 
purposes of the comedy. are developed. 

The charactei's are such as flourished in 1840, typical 
of the time, sufficiently marked for the use of the play- 
wright, and individually distinct from the ephemera 
which in each generation supply illustrations of fashion- 
able vagaries. 

The utterances of the characters are appropriate to the 
circumstances in which they appear, action is never re- 
tarded by^ conversational vivacity, but bright, cynical, 
wise, and terse observations are frequent, and there are 
occasions where the remarks of many are ingeniously in- 
terlaced and dovetailed. 

The reading of the will, which changes Evelyn's fate, 
with the alternations of feverish expectancy and pro- 



MONEY 373 

found disgust; the courting scene where Lady Franklin 
successfully schemes to make the disconsolate widower 
laugh, sing, and dance ; the game at piquet with Evelyn 
losing fabulous sums to Smooth, and his friends aban- 
doning their prejudices against gambling in their eager- 
ness to secure a share of the plunder while the lone old 
member keeps the waiter in perpetual journeyings after 
the snuffbox ; and the final collapse of Sir John 's machi- 
nations, are the great scenes of the comedy, but more 
poignant incidents are the several interviews between 
Clara and Evelyn — when she rejects him, when she 
urges him to useful activity, and when she defends her 
refusal to drag him down by marrying on nothing. 

Sir John Vesey is the most important character, en- 
abled by his acquired reputation for respectability to 
perpetrate quackeries, deceits, and knaveries with as 
much unction as though they were virtuous actions, with- 
out drawing down the reprehension of his class ; a genu- 
ine whig, inherently mendacious, selfish, and hypocritical, 
titled but without honor, associate of learned societies 
but neither studious nor erudite, famed as an orator but 
incapable of composing a speech; less benevolent than 
the poor dependent, less honest than the professional 
gambler — the typical product of nineteenth century 
political society, and the evidence of the power of a title 
to shield rascality from its deserts. L'Avares and Tar- 
tuffes are neither so numerous nor so insidiously cor- 
rupting as this specimen of the modern man who has suc- 
ceeded, and who justifies to himself the frauds and mean- 
nesses he regards as necessary incidents in that manage- 
ment by which he humbugs a world which otherwise 



374 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

would deny him the station and prominence he has so 
long usurped. 

Alfred Evelyn, scholar and gentleman, poor and there- 
fore imposed upon until an unexpected legacy lifts him 
above the herd of his relatives, is a cynic in profession 
but a philanthropist in practice. Penury has taught him 
the value of money, experience has familiarized him with 
the crushing influence of circumstances, and affection 
has prompted to ambitious projects. Able, practical, and 
sagacious in everything where intellect is called into 
play, but undiscerning and a blunderer where the heart 
is concerned, he misjudges the girl who rejected him be- 
cause both were poor, and attributes nonexistent gener- 
osity to the daughter of his former oppressor. 

Made suspicious by his friend's criticism, he resorts 
to stratagem to test the sinceritj^ of Georgina and Sir 
John, and finds that the money, not the man, attracted. 
Professing friends fell away when wealth was supposed 
exhausted, while those who had presumed to reprove, 
and desire activities more suitable to his abilities, re- 
mained loyal and wishful to aid. He escapes from the 
clutches of Sir John and his daughter, and is restored 
to her who thought more of him than of herself when she 
refused to share his poverty. 

There is wonderful variety in the minor characters. 
Mr. Graves, hiding a kindly heart and genial disposi- 
tion under the exaggerated evidences of liis grief for his 
sainted Maria, meanwhile enjoys good sherry, admires 
fine women, and contrives; to get much good out of life. 
Sir Frederick Blount, who objects to the letter R be- 
cause it is too rough and therefore drops its acquaint- 



MONEY 375 

ance; Lord Glossmore, whose grandfather kept a pawn- 
broker's shop and who accordingly entertains the pro- 
foundest contempt for everything plebeian; Mr. Stout, 
puffing, hot, and radical, with immense misinformation 
about political economy and no clear opinion about any- 
thing; Captain Smooth, with the mildest manners and 
the deadliest success in duels, able to keep a secret, ready 
to do anything to oblige, and though a gambler evincing 
a nicer honor than the pretentious superior persons with 
whom he is brought in contact. 

Georgina Vesey is frivolous, Clara Douglas amiable 
and serious, but Lady Franklin, experienced, good-na- 
tured, shrewd, well-informed, and unaffected, is the most 
captivating of the ladies in the comedy. 

Mr. Graves has notified Sir John Vesey that at two 
o'clock he mil bring the lawyer to read the will of the 
late Mr. Mordaunt. Sir John, assuming confidently that 
his daughter Georgina will inherit the nabob's wealth 
and become thereby the richest heiress in England, takes 
this opportunity to inform that young lady that not- 
withstanding appearances and report, he is not the rich 
man he seems, that the world judges men by what they 
appear to be, not by what they are, and that therefore 
he humbugs the world by always living above his means 
and taking credit for more than he possesses. By man- 
agement he has obtained the repute of being stingy, 
which implies wealth, but it is all humbug. Further, as 
now she mil be a great heiress, all thought of Sir Fred- 
erick must be dismissed, and she must look out for a 
duke. Lady Franklin with her niece Clara joins them, 
and they discuss the relatives of the deceased, until Sir 



376 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

John's secretary enters and interrupts their satire. Each 
has some errand or task which needs Evelyn's attention 
but he cannot perform their commissions because his old 
nurse is dying and he wants some assistance for her. 
He asks Sir John for ten pounds but does not obtain it. 
Georgina, contemplating sending something when she re- 
ceives her legacy, writes down the poor woman 's address. 
Clara copies it unobserved, and, Lady Franklin assisting 
her, sends the sum anonymously. Sir Frederick Blount 
enters. His manner to Clara is lacking in courtesy, and 
provokes Evelyn, whose interjections make Sir Freder- 
ick uncomfortable. When he has gone, Evelyn seeks to 
compensate for the cavalier treatment Clara has re- 
ceived by evidencing his own respect. He commiserates 
her position, like his own, that of a dependent, and pas- 
sion carrying away his reserve, he asks her to marry him, 
and is gently but firmly rejected, because he is poor and 
she too. She loves but will not ruin him. Stout, Gloss- 
more and presently Graves and the lawyer arrive, and 
Sir John dismisses his secretary so that they may get to 
business. The lawyer observes that all the relatives 
should be present and bids Evelyn be seated. The will 
is read. The testator has indulged a bitter ironical spirit 
in his bequests, most of which cause disappointment and 
indignation in the recipients, but to Georgina he leaves 
ten thousand pounds, to Graves five thousand, and all the 
residue to Alfred Evelyn, whose wealth now separates 
him from Clara more than his poverty did. Those who 
had hitherto been condescending to the poor secretary, 
become effusively kind to the heir, and when he asks for 
ten pounds for his old nurse every man offers it. 



MONEY 377 

The anteroom of Evelyn's new house is crowded with 
artists, publishers, builders, and the tradesmen whom 
wealth attracts. Stout, the explosive, vigorous radical, 
bursts in, having heard that Evelyn has bought the great 
Groginhole property. The member for that borough 
cannot live another month and Stout wants the new pro- 
prietor to support Popkins. Glossmore, with the same 
information, solicits his interest for Lord Cipher. Ev- 
elyn bids them go and play at battledore and shuttlecock 
by themselves. Graves is the most cordially valued of 
all Evelyn's new friends and to him, after cataloguing 
the miseries of life, Evelyn relates his early harsh ex- 
periences and even his rejection by Clara, in revenge for 
which he has pretended that in a letter which accom- 
panied the will Mr. Mordaunt had ordered the payment 
of twenty thousand pounds to Clara Douglas, which 
amount has been given to the woman who refused him. 
Mr. Mordaunt had expressed the desire that Evelyn 
should choose one of his two cousins for wife, and as 
Clara had declined his hand, and his nurse had received 
ten pounds anonymously and only Georgina knew her 
address, he concludes that he is in duty bound to pro- 
pose to Sir John's daughter. Sir John overhears Lady 
Franklin conversing with Clara and learns of the send- 
ing of the money. Dudley Smooth, a successful gambler 
and a dead shot, is introduced and Sir Frederick asks 
Evelyn's good offices in his suit for Clara, for Georgina 
now pretends a prior attachment. Sir John represents 
to Evelyn that Georgina, at some sacrifice, sent relief 
to his nurse and that apparent fact decides Evelyn. He 
proposes to Georgina and is accepted. 



378 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

Evelyn has not pressed the fixing of the wedding day ; 
he seldom comes to the house, and Sir John is uneasy. 
He determines to get Clara out of the way and to that 
end he tells her that lest it might embarrass her he let 
Evelyn suppose that Georgina sent that letter and he 
pleads his interest in his daughter's happiness as an ex- 
cuse for suggesting that Clara, whose presence keeps 
Evelyn away, could accompany Mrs. Carleton abroad. 
Clara is miserable, hails the opportunity and agrees to 
the proposition. Meeting Evelyn she informs him of her 
plans, thanks him for past kindnesses, asks that they 
part friends, and as a sister to a brother begs that he will 
use his benevolence, his intellect, his genius so that she 
may always recall with pride that once this man loved 
her. Graves thinks that Evelyn has been too hasty, hints 
that Georgina cares more for Sir Frederick, whom Clara 
has refused, than for him, and leads Evelyn to perceive 
that he has been duped by Sir John, who is immensely 
fond of his prospective son-in-law's money. Evelyn de- 
termines to beat Sir John at his own weapons ; he there- 
ford recants his promise to foreswear gambling and pre- 
tends to disregard certain important information regard- 
ing banks. Lady Franklin receives Graves in her boudoir, 
and in the way of a widow with a man cajoles him into 
laughing, declaiming, singing, and dancing. Just as he 
is proposing and about to embrace her, a troop of their 
friends enter. The lady escapes and Graves stops in 
front of Sir John. Their mirth is resented and Graves 
leaves in anger. At the club Evelyn is engaged in play. 
He bargains with Smooth that they will pretend to gam- 
ble for enormous stakes to the end that Sir John's sin- 



MONEY 379 

cerity may be tested. The play is so high, that all watch. 
Sir John is in agony. After tremendous losses Evelyn 
proposes to make a night of it and they adjourn to his 
own house in spite of Sir John's entreaties. 

In the anteroom the tradesmen and other gnats are re- 
gretfully commenting on their patron's transference of 
the privilege of ruining him to gamblers. Evelyn's bad 
luck continues and it becomes evident that after losing 
all else he has staked his house on the odd trick, and lost. 
The tailor arranges to arrest Evelyn as an absconding 
debtor because he overhears that a passport for Belgium 
has been procured. Evelyn borrows from Sir John, Sir 
'Frederick, and Glossmore. He announces that he is 
through with Smooth, but is crippled and must retrench 
and he asks Georgina to advance him the ten thousand 
pounds bequeathed to her. That discreet young lady 
will let him hear from her tomorrow. Evelyn questions 
his friends if in the twelve months since he became rich 
he could have spent his money in a way more worthy of 
their good opinion. They answer no emphatically. The 
lawyer whispers to Evelyn, "The bank's broke." He 
repeats the words in a frightened voice. Simultaneously 
he finds there is an execution in the house, and opinions 
change. Sir John demands the return of his loan, and all 
save Smooth and Graves abuse Evelyn and depart in dis- 
gust. 

At the club Glossmore receives a despatch acquainting 
him that Evelyn has been nominated for Groginhole. 
He despairs of the country if men of unknown principles 
are to make its laws, and considere it infamous in a 
bankrupt to get into parliament just to keep out of pris- 



380 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

on. Sir John makes it up with Sir Frederick; he will 
not sacrifice his daughter's happiness to ambition, there- 
fore at dinner tonight they will talk over the settlements. 
Her ten thousand pounds is to remain her own, which is 
not agreeable to Sir Frederick, who wonders if it 
wouldn't be better to elope with Georgina. Stout, more 
heated than usual, informs Sir John that Evelyn has 
played a trick on them ; he hasn't lost any money to speak 
of ; the Groginhole purchase has been completed and be- 
fore the day is over he will be a member of Parliament. 
Sir John promptly revokes his promise to Sir Frederick 
and sets about strengthening his claims on Evelyn. Sir 
Frederick, roused to anger, determines to induce Georg- 
ina, with whom he has an appointment, to elope. Graves 
is questioned by Clara as to Evelyn's reverses and how 
he bears them. Having heard from Georgina that ten 
thousand pounds will free him from all liabilities she 
has paid that amount to his credit. Graves assures her 
that it is not Georgina that Evelyn cares for, tells her 
that Evelyn concocted the story about her bequest, and 
encourages her to hope that all will come right, for 
Georgina will prove herself Sir John's daughter. Clara, 
anxious that when others desert she should not be classed 
with such false friends, induces Lady Franklin to ac- 
company her to her cousin 's house. There Evelyn is dis- 
cussing affairs with Graves, pointing out that it was not 
regarded as wrong for him to gamble, the crime consisted 
in losing. Graves offers to assist his friend financially 
and Evelyn confides to him that his losses have been 
trivial, that all has been a pretense to test Sir John and 
Georgina and see whether it was the money or the man 



MONEY 381 

they cared for. A letter is brought notifying Evelyn 
that ten thousand pounds has been placed to his credit, 
and concluding that Georgina is the donor and that his 
suspicions have wronged her, he writes to undeceive her 
as to his supposed losses, and binds himself irrevocably 
by asking her to fix the day for their wedding. Lady 
Franklin and Clara come. Graves regrets that they are 
too late, as whatever is good for anything generally is. 
Sir John enters beaming and effusive and announces that 
they will all lend him any amount he requires and that 
Georgina insists upon giving him the required sum. He 
is perplexed to learn that it has already been received 
and an answer sent. He beseeches Lady Franklin to 
search for Georgina, whom he has not been able to find. 
A deputation confirms the news of Evelyn's election for 
Groginhole and Sir John elicits from the lawyer that the 
gambling losses amounted to less than a week's income, 
and hugs himself on having caught Evelyn in his own 
trap. Lady Franklin returns, bringing Georgina and 
Sir Frederick with her. Evelyn, preventing Sir John 
from communicating with his daughter, asks Georgina if 
she is still willing to marry him. She answers that his 
fortune dazzled her ; she pities his reverses ; life is noth- 
ing without money, and as their engagement is annulled 
— as papa told her — she has promised her hand where 
she has given her heart, to Sir Frederick. Evelyn pro- 
duces the letters on the strength of which he proposed 
and asks their meaning. Lady Franklin explains that 
her maid wrote them at Clara's request. Evelyn is free 
and at once claims Clara as his wife. Sir John is furi- 
ous, scolds Georgina, and denounces Lady Franklin un- 



382 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

til he learns that his daughter was on the point of elop- 
ing to Scotland. Evelyn doubles; Georgina's legacy and 
a match is made between her and Sir Frederick. Lady 
Franklin accepts Graves and they undertake to finish 
their reel on their wedding day. 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 

THIS title was given by Charles Dickens to a com- 
edy written by Bulwer for performance by a com- 
pany of amateurs whose oddities of speech, bear- 
ing, and demeanor were transferred to the figures in- 
vented for them, as were also, in some instances, salient 
characteristics of the players. Wilmot, like Dickens, 
' ' with heart as large as his genius, ' ' was better known to 
the many because of negligible affectations and obtruded 
foibles than by his natural goodness and geniality, and 
Forster had Hardman's failing of occasionally allowing 
his zeal to outrun his prudence. 

The limited histrionic experiences of these players had 
to be taken into account in the invention and arrange- 
ment of incidents and business. Subtleties and intensi- 
ties in effects and situations are avoided, and the fem- 
inine interest is of the slightest proportions. The com- 
edy called for all the skill and adroitness of the actors, 
and gave excellent opportunities for the display of their 
ability in an unfamiliar art, without inviting failure by 
too high an aim. 

The illusion of remoteness was obtained by casting the 
comedy in the time of George the First, and the greatest 
artists of the day cooperated in ensuring faithfulness in 
the details of scenery, furniture, and costume when it 
was first perfonned. 

The language is terse and fluent, sometimes delicately 



384 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

touched with satire, often rising to fervor, and the situ- 
ations amuse, compel attention, and arouse admiration. 
As the action progresses the characters develop, and ami- 
able and admirable traits are shown in all. Each collision 
of antagonism in purpose and disposition has an amend- 
ing result. The foibles inviting ridicule are found to be 
mere trivial accompaniments of praiseworthy qualities, 
and it is revealed that there is more of good in every man 
than our superficial judgments acknowledge. Therefore 
it heightens our regard for human nature and has an 
ennobling effect. 

Not So Bad As We Seem was first produced at Devon- 
shire House, May 16, 1851. It was afterwards played 
by Mr. "Webster 's company at the Haymarket. 

Wilmot is the principal character, the admired leader 
of the mode, masking by a pretense of heartlessness, cyn- 
icism, and levity, a quick sympathy with the noble and 
aspiring, an eager activity in beneficent deeds, and an 
unselfish readiness to assist less fortunate individuals. 

Hardman is sterner and less amiable than his friend, 
and his ambition and selfwill nearly turn to evil a dis- 
position prone to overvalue practical success. With the 
ability to discern what is right, and with eloquence to 
move others to noble action, he plays the sophist with 
himself and contemplates a resort to treachery. Sur- 
prised at finding unexpected goodness in others, and re- 
alizing the unfavorable comparison his own conduct sug- 
gests, better desires are awakened in him and as a first 
step to becoming actively useful to humanity he changes 
his intention, aids those he had planned to injure, and 
enjoys the happiest moment he has ever knoA^Ti. 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 385 

Next to Wilmot, Sir Geoffrey is the best of the charac- 
ters. Early experiences of man's duplicity and deceit 
have made distrust habitual to him, and he is suspicious 
of everything. His wrongs have made him reserved but 
not sullen, the injuries he has received have embittered 
his life, without making him revengeful. He is unable 
to suppress his inherent kindliness and generosity, and 
however droll his imaginary dangers and the fears they 
cause may make him appear, his shrewdness, wisdom, and 
greatheartedness win respect and admiration. 

The duke of Middlesex carries pride to the boundary 
of the absurd, yet is nevertheless more than a grandiose 
figure. In his interview with Hardman, where the honor 
of a woman is in (luestion, he rises to the sublime. 

The distressed poet is a pitiful yet ennobling portrait 
of unfriended and neglected genius. Ambitious to per- 
fect a worthy legacy to his country, he is compelled to 
Avrite pamphlets instead, and scarcely able to support 
his family by his own toils he yet resists the temptation 
to sell the scandalous composition of another for the 
high price the publishers offer. In a work designed to 
emphasize the importance of the literary calling, it was 
necessary to place its representative in a favorable light, 
and David Fallen portrays the professional author, not 
as he is, or has been, but as he should be. 

Lord Wilmot, rising late, finds that he has no duels 
awaiting him, and less than a score of social engage- 
ments, and therefore a dull day confronts him. A lady 
who professes interest in Sir Geoffrey Thornside and his 
daughter and wishes to communicate with Miss Thorn- 



386 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

side, applies to Wilmot to assist her. Ttieir interview 
being interrupted by another visitor, she leaves hurried- 
ly, appointing the evening for a fuller explanation. Mr. 
Shadowly Softhead, an imitator of his lordship, is the 
caller. He is the best fellow in the world, neither strong 
nor wise, j^et ambitious to be thought as daring and wild 
as the exquisite he copies. Hardman, a rising politician, 
comes to secure Wilmot 's support for the government, 
but finds that his lordship is more attracted by art than 
politics and has just bought a superb Murillo, the very 
thing Walpole most desires. Hardman 's punctilious 
formality is disagreeable to Wilmot, who wants to forget 
he is a lord, in his bachelor's apartments, and he de- 
clares that if a duke called upon him he would dispense 
with all titles and call him by his name. The valet an- 
nounces his grace the duke of Middlesex and to justify 
his boast, Wilmot accosts his visitor as Middlesex, an im- 
pertinence which Softhead imitates, to the consternation 
of the duke. Hardman takes Softhead out of the room, 
and Wilmot explains and apologizes for his assumption 
of familiarity. The duke is anxious about a scandalous 
narrative written by his sarcastic brother and reflecting 
injuriously on himself, which he is told is about to be 
published, but the purpose of his call is to invite Wilmot 
to join in a project for restoring James the Third to the 
throne. Wilmot undertakes to gain possession of the 
dreaded manuscript but he declines to assist in what 
would cause civil war, and the duke takes his leave re- 
gretting that he mistook the son of Lord Loftus. Wil- 
mot is perturbed by the reference to his father, who may 
be compromising himself in a conspiracy, and he en- 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 387 

treats Hardman, who has a knack of finding out every- 
thing, to sound Lord Loftus and learn if he is being 
lured into treason. 

Sir Geoffrey manifests an aversion to Wilmot, and in- 
terposes obstacles to his meeting Lucy. In order to put 
the father on a WT^-ong scent, Wilmot arranges that Soft- 
head shall make pretended love to Miss Thomside wliile 
Sir Geoffrey is present, and he will devote his attentions 
to Miss Easy, whom Softhead worships, and they pro- 
ceed to the Thornside home. 

Sir Geoffrey is distressed because the dog howled last 
night, and his servant's behavior makes him apprehen- 
sive of designs on his peace, and some enemy must be 
plotting against his life because every day flowers are 
thro"s^^l into his room. Mr. Easy and his daughter come 
to visit Lucy, and Sir Geoffrey confides his fears to his 
friend. Mr. Easy suggests that the flowers come from 
a female admirer, or are intended for Lucy, who may 
have attracted some one who takes this method of show- 
ing attention. This reminds Sir Geoffrey of Lord Wil- 
mot, who persists in calling despite every rebuff, and 
who may mean making love to Lucy, which Easy thinks 
the only likely suspicion his friend has hit on for many 
a day. He has heard of Wilmot, who is rather a madcap, 
but adored by his companions, and Softhead professes 
to copy him; he incenses Sir Geoffrey by wisliing him 
joy, for the knight has other designs for his daughter. 
Lord Wilmot and Softhead call. They devote them- 
selves to Lucy and Barbara according to their prear- 
rangement. Easy is delighted to observe Wilmot 's at- 
tention to his daughter, and visions of her as my lady 



388 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

and himself as member for the city loom before him, and 
he facilitates the stratagem of the visitors by enticing 
Sir Geoffrey from the room. As soon as the fathers have 
gone the partners are changed, but a return to the pre- 
vious alliance is necessitated by the entrance of Hard- 
man, who intends to marry Lucy, and fears a rival in 
Wilmot, but he is deceived by the pretended attentions 
and concludes that it is Barbara who is preferred by his 
friend. Miss Easy agrees to aid Wilmot on condition 
that Softhead is sent back to the city and reconciled to 
her father, but she is afraid that this is no longer pos- 
sible for Mr. Easy is severe on social indulgences and 
dislikes men who make themselves absurd by aping those 
of another class. Wilmot determines to test Mr. Easy's 
severity and invites him to Wills Coffee house. 

Easy, despite his prejudices, contrives to advertise to 
all his acquaintances the fact that he is to meet his friend 
Lord Wilmot. Hardman has asked for an office in the 
gift of the minister and is expectant but anxious. From 
David Fallen he will learn about the new plot. Lords 
Middlesex and Loftus are engaged with the pamphleteer, 
a requisition is ready for conveyance to France, and a 
messenger is to be procured by Fallen to whom Middle- 
sex will deliver the document at an appointed place. 
When the noblemen depart. Fallen acquaints Hardman 
of the arrangements and leaves to him the choice of a 
messenger. Walpole writes expressing regret that the 
place asked for is needed to conciliate a family other- 
wise dangerous. Wilmot introduces Softhead to some of 
his friends whom he represents as fire-eaters and duel- 
lists, and in whose company he leaves him, while he 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 389 

gathers from Tonson, the publisher, particulars of Lord 
Mowbray 's memoirs and the address of the poor poet who 
has them in his custody. Hardman, bitter and resent- 
ful, confides to Wilmot his disappointment, but for which 
he would have had courage to ask for the hand of one 
long-beloved but above him in station and birth, and he 
contrasts his position with that of his friend, whO' need 
fear no rebuff where he places his affections. Wilmot 
stuns him by confessing that it is to Lucy and not Bar- 
bara that he has lost his heart. Hardman determines to 
crush his rival by means of his knowledge of the plot in 
which Lord Loftus is compromised, and hastens away to 
possess himself of the papers intended for conveyance to 
France. Wilmot, grieved that his friend should lose the 
woman he loves for want of a pitiful place, resolves to 
gain it for him by giving Walpole his Murillo, and for 
that purpose he drives toi the minister 's house. 

Lucy prefers to be unhappy rather than to deceive 
her father, and therefore acquaints him that it is not 
Barbara but herself whom Lord Wilmot comes to see. 
Hardman later informs Sir Geoffrey that Wilmot has no 
thought of Mr. Easy's daughter, and undertakes to find 
out the sender of the flowers. 

After dinner at Wills Coffee house. Easy, hilarious, 
musical, and oratorical. Softhead, abject, sorrowful, and 
lachrymose, and Wilmot, sober but affecting inebriety, 
are on their way home. Easy promises Barbara to Soft- 
head since Wilmot is preengaged, and then upsetting a 
watchman and securing possession of his rattle, he im- 
agines himself a successful contestant for the city's rep- 
resentation, and emphasizing his speech of thanks springs 



390 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

his rattle, which brings other watchmen who carry him 
to the guardhouse, he all the while believing he is being 
chaired member for the city. Wilmot describes the house 
they are to visit, as devoted to dreadful purposes, and 
so terrifies Softhead that he runs home, and Wilmot en- 
ters alone. 

Sir Geoffrey has conceived a new suspicion and fancy- 
ing that the annoyances to which he is subjected orig- 
inate with an old enemy, he resolves that he will find and 
fight this foe, and as he may receive death instead of 
dealing it, he must at once secure a protector for Lucy, 
therefore he must hasten her marriage with Hardman, 
whom he has chosen for her, whose career he has secretly 
furthered and whose worth he will judge by the candor 
with which he answers certain questions. Hardman 's 
replies, while attributing all his successes to his own un- 
aided efforts and ability, satisfy Sir Geoffrey, although 
every step, save the latest, in the progress so proudly set 
forth was smoothed for him by his benefactor. The last 
honor received today is the government appointment 
previously refused. He is told to win Lucy's consent 
and soon, because Sir Geoffrey is determined to fight his 
insulter. Hardman assures him that the man he ac- 
cuses died two months ago. He recalls that the memoirs 
bequeathed to Fallen may put a different construction 
on the acts which Sir Geoffrey deems so unforgivable 
and he goes to secure the memoirs. 

David Fallen in his garret, endeavoring to write while 
worried for the wherewithal for food, is visited by Wil- 
mot, who personates Edmund Currl. The mock pub- 
lisher declines to buy the poem Fallen regards as his 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 391 

greatest book but offers a large sum for the papers of 
Lord Mowbray. Despite his needs the poet refuses to al- 
low writings which would cause pain to many to be given 
to the public. The pretended publisher changes his at- 
tack and represents himself as the agent of the Duke of 
Middlesex. Fallen has cause to resent the neglect and 
contempt with which the duke has treated him. These 
memoirs would make the proud duke the jeer of the 
town, but he will not sell scandal even to the head of the 
Mowbrays nor will he be the instrument of a brother's 
revenge; he Avill retain the confessions. Then, revealing 
himself, Wilmot apologizes for his deception, and asks 
for the papers not as a matter of price, but as an evi- 
dence of the nobility of the poet who can humble by a 
gift the prince who insulted him by alms, and having re- 
ceived the memoirs Wilmot begs Fallen's acceptance of 
an annuity from him. Hardman hears with dismay that 
the confessions he needs are now in the hands of the 
duke. He learns enough of the contents to see that Sir 
Geoffrey has been mistaken and perceives that it is the 
attempts of Lucy's mother to attract her daughter's at- 
tention which have perturbed the Thornside home. Turn- 
ing to the Jacobite plot, Hardman arranges to supply 
the messenger and thus receive the incriminating docu- 
ments. 

Softhead acquires knowledge of the bribery of the 
prime minister which secured Hardman his appoint- 
ment, and is confiinned in his purpose to quit fashionable 
life, but perceiving Lucy and Wilmot entering the house 
he has been taught to dread he becomes alarmed, and 
not finding Sir Geoffrey at home, he seeks Hardman and 



392 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

confides his fears to him. Hardman has secured the 
requisition of the plotters, and he has successfully ap- 
pealed to the heart of the proud duke, who has promised 
to produce his brother's confessions, and he sees that 
Wilmot has forestalled his plan and led the daughter to 
the mother's arms. He sends Softhead for officers and 
for Sir Geoffrey, who is with Mr, Easy, and then enters 
the house and accosting "Wihnot proclaims his rivalry, 
exhibits the proof of Lord Loftus' treason, and exacts as 
the price of the surrender of that document the with- 
drawal of Wilmot 's suit to Lucy, and the personal at- 
tendance of both the conspiring lords. To Lucy he prom- 
ises the restoration of her mother to the hearth of her 
father, but at the price of her hand, and he has just 
wrung this pledge from her, when Sir Geoffrey and his 
friends arrive. Hardman is thanked for having saved 
Lucy and thus requited the kindnesses and preferments 
which have been rendered in secret to him, and when he 
protests that no man has ever aided him, that alone he 
has carved out his own pathway, Mr. Easy confounds 
him by detailing the interference of Sir Geoffrey, which 
made each step save the last one possible, and Softhead 
tells him how Wilmot secured that for him. Hardman, 
perceiving that all have been beneficent to him, becomes 
ashamed of his planned treachery and changes his pur- 
poses. He explains to Sir Geoffrey that Lucy was but 
led to her mother, that that mother had been maligned, 
and he produces as the proofs of her innocence the con- 
fession of Lord Henry Mowbray, the authenticity of 
which Lord Middlesex attests. Sir Geoffrey, convinced 
of his Avrongful suspicions, goes to ask forgiveness, Wil- 



NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM 393 

mot fulfils Ills agreement with Barbara by winning 
Easy's confirmation of his yesterday's promise, Hardman 
destroys the treasonable requisition and yields Lucy's 
hand to Wilmot. There are many sides to a character 
and when men are better known they are not so bad as 
they seem. 



WALPOLE 

THIS innovation in comedy was developed from an 
experiment adventured upon in the years when 
Bulwer was actively engaged in producing plays 
for the stage. It was completed and published in 1869, 

The immediate object of the work is to show that com- 
edy can be furnished with an appropriate muse-like 
measure in which the mirth and satire of its dialogue 
may be expressed more pleasantly than in prose, and it 
submits the twleve-foot couplet used by Moliere as an 
available and advantageous verse for the purpose. 

Constructed for representation, it was not submitted 
to any manager, for Hayward and others who were con- 
sulted were unanimous in reporting that no London the- 
atre possessed performers to whom the principal parts 
in Walpole would be congenial or suited. Therefore it 
was published as a comic poem of a kind in which there 
is no previous example in the English language. 

It is a satisfactory demonstration of the advantages 
metre gives to the colloquy or recital of comedy which 
aims at permanence. The lines flow freely, elisions and 
inverted constructions are avoided, there is no sign of 
effort, and the dialogue takes an added point and terse- 
ness from the rhyme. It may require greater care in de- 
livery by the actor, but it does not appear to have oc- 
casioned any difficulty to the playwright. 



WALPOLE 395 

The differing' influence of private aims npon political 
action is illustrated in the work, which consists of three 
acts. The story is one of intri^e and every incident 
adds to our knowledge of the character of Sir Robert. 

The tactful and masterful whig could only be appro- 
priately treated in comedy, for though he was neither 
more selfish nor unscrupulous than other leaders of his 
political caste, there is nothing of the exalted or noble in 
the man or his measures. Large, strong, shrewd, and 
tolerant, he was determined to maintain peace at all 
hazards, and took whatever steps were necessary to se- 
cure that boon. He bribed right and left, for his ex- 
perience taught him that every man has his price. But 
statesmen must labor for that which they perceive is ex- 
pedient, and use such means as the circumstances of the 
times make available to carry their measures, and the 
censure incurred by Walpole 's lax methods should be ex- 
tended to the lords and commons of his day. 

The clemency, adroitness, and purposeful cajolery of 
the practical politician are humanized in the comedy by 
the addition of an unexpected tenderness. Walpole had 
no sister, but mthout the introduction of Lucy he would 
have been but coldly interesting. The call upon his emo- 
tions by revealing a warm heart within a cold mechan- 
ism increases and heightens our regard. 

The exuberant, sunny, and unselfish Bellaire is a pre- 
possessing embodiment of noble youth. The minister 
cannot induce him to sacrifice his participation in the 
onrushing time, yet in a woman's face he sees a fairer 
paradise than office promises to the ambitious Blount. 
Nothing in his conduct is unworthy, he acts as becomes 



396 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

him without hesitation even when knowingly incurring 
danger, his trust in his father's friend is not a weakness, 
and it is but just that he wins the bride Blount would 
rob him of, for May and December can never agree. 

Blount, the veteran leader of an opposition, has out- 
grown all enthusiasms except that of thwarting Walpole, 
until the knowledge that his ward has attracted a young- 
er suitor rouses passion and determination which neither 
scruple nor consideration is allowed to interfere with. 
He cannot believe that the superior person he considers 
himself to be can fail to receive the preference of her to 
whom he deigns to offer marriage, and the obstructions 
his plans encounter make him ungenerous, deceitful, and 
treacherous, for 
"When love comes so late how it maddens the brain 

Between shame for our folly and rage at our pain. ' ' 
Dazed and made desperate by the failure of his schemes 
to secure a wife, he would add crime to the blunder 
which has exposed him to ridicule and shame, but is 
saved by the intercession of Lucy and the generous ad- 
monition of Walpole to hold up his head and keep a 
laugh for the ass who has never gone out of his wits for 
a lass. 

Walpole explains to his agent Vesey that until the new 
king and his government are more firmly established the 
risk of an unfavorable general election must be avoided. 
A bill extending the life of the present parliament can 
be carried if Sir Sidney Bellair and Selden Blount can 
be induced to support it, therefore these men must be 
won or bought even if the price be high. Vesey under- 



WALPOLE 397 

takes to arrange a meeting between Blount and the min- 
ister which may bring about the conversion of a present 
opponent, Bellair enters humming a tune. Walpole 
compliments him on the brilliancy of his last speech — 
though the subject, an attack upon himself, was not quite 
to his liking; invites him to Haughton and then leaves 
the young member with Vesey, who wonders why Bel- 
lair is not among Walpole 's friends, and hints at a duke's 
daughter and a peerage as certainties if Sir Sidney al- 
lies himself with the minister. Vesey 's attempt to se- 
cure Bellair is unsuccessful. Blount enters fresh from 
the Guildhall where his patriotism has been lauded at a 
banquet. Vesey suggests that he call upon "Walpole and 
discuss a measure in which they are both interested and 
names three o'clock, which Blount, who has vowed to 
amend every ministerial proposal, changes to two, then 
addressing Bellair the opposition leader seeks to estab- 
lish a community of interests with him. Walpole can- 
not buy Sir Sidney but Blount can, for he visits at the 
home of a young lady who has interested Bellair, and by 
facilitating his meetings with Lucy Wilmot, the patriot 
will so seinre him as to ensure his constant support. 
Blount alleges that the lady is of such lowly station that 
it is useless to think of her as a wife, and he himself 
would defend her against a philanderer. Bellair per- 
sists in requesting that Blount aid him in winning Lucy 
for his bride, and the reluctant patriot is constrained to 
comply. 

Walpole has connived at Nithsdale's escape from the 
tower, and is pleased that the young man has relieved 
the government by evading the fate of a martyr, which 



398 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

would have strengthened his party. Free, he can do no 
harm. Blonnt calls and the minister reasons with him 
on the proposal to extend the life of the parliament. 
Blount regards this attempt to silence the nation as in- 
famous and declares that he is not to be bought. "Wal- 
pole argues that man prevails only by buying and sell- 
ing, and that only those who are worth nothing are not 
bought. Blount is worth much, he is wanted, and he is 
asked to write his price. On the paper handed to him 
he writes "Among the men who are bought to save Eng- 
land inscribe me, and my price is the head of the man 
who would bribe me. ' ' That strikes "Walpole as too high 
reaching, but he must have Blount's support, so other 
means luust be thought of. 

At Mrs. Vizard's house, where Lucy "Wilmot has her 
home, two Jacobite lords seek shelter for a lady until 
evening and as they reward her amply she accepts the 
charge. It is Nithsdale disguised in his wife's dress. 
Blount enters and upbraids Mrs. Vizard for her careless- 
ness in permitting Bellair to see and confer with Lucy. 
He has represented himself as John Jones, and his in- 
tention to make Lucy his wife has never been divulged. 
Now his plans being in danger he decides to hurry mat- 
ters and will see and talk to Lucy. To her he denounces 
Bellair as a wolf in sheep's clothing to save her from 
whom he wiU marry her tomorrow, and he goes to per- 
fect the necessary arrangements, giving the astounded 
Lucy no chance to either protest or refuse. The news- 
fnen announce Nithsdale 's flight from the tower dis- 
guised in his wife's dressi and Mrs. Vizard, convinced 
that her new guest is the escaped lord and intent upon 



WALPOLE 399 

the offered reward, locks her doors and hurries; to Wal- 
pole to sell her prisoner. Nithsdale, suspecting that he 
is in a trap, smashes the door of his room, and finds Lucy 
similarly caged. He explains his danger, asks for an- 
other hood and mantle, and retires to change his disguise. 
Blount informs Bellair that Lucy his promised her hand 
to Mr. Jones, and Sir Sidney, resolved to know his fate 
from her own lips, tries to attract ll^r attention by 
throwing a pebble at the window. Nithsdale interprets 
this as the signal of his friends and descends from the 
window to the astonishment of Bellair. The mistake is 
explained, the danger told, and Nithsdale is sent to safe- 
ty in Bellair 's carriage. Lucy, replying to Sir Sidney's 
enquiries, relates how she has been told to marry Mr. 
Jones, whom she reveres as a grandfather but never 
dreamed of as; a lover. Bellair arranges to come with a 
ladder at ten o'clock and convey her to his home, where 
priest and friends will be present. Blount, having 
found a parson and secured a cottage, is felicitating him- 
self on his success in misleading Bellair, and gloating in 
advance over the cheers he will win in the house when he 
exposes Walpole's attempt to bribe him, meets Sir Sid- 
ney and is told that Lucy never intended to many old 
Mr. Jones, that on the contrary she is to become Lady 
Bellair this day and he is asked to attend the nuptials 
and act as the bride's father. A Jacobite lord thanks 
Sir Sidney for his generous assistance to Nithsdale, who 
has now got safely away, and gives him a letter exposing 
the treachery of Mrs. Vizard which he hands to Blount, 
who retains and transfers the missive to Vesey, making 
the arrest of Bellair the price of its surrender. 



400 COMEDIES OF BULWER 

Vesey hurries to Walpole, and an order for Sir Sid- 
ney's arrest is signed, but the minister insists that only 
gentle measures are to be taken. Bellair must stay 
within doors, and Vesey had best keep him company. 
When Mrs Vizard came to betray Nithsdale, "Walpole de- 
tained her until his messenger could make sure that the 
bird was flown. In her den his agent found another cap- 
tive, a weeping girl named Wilmot, and the minister 
must know who she is and how she came there. Mrs. 
Vizard is summoned. She explains how Seldon Blount 
has been benefactor to Lucy Wilmot, an orphan, and the 
name being that of Walpole 's sister, the minister sus- 
pects that she is a member of his own family and he ac- 
companies Mrs. Vizard to her home to investigate. An 
interview with Lucy convinces him that he has found his 
lost sister's child. He learns all about her two lovers 
and how Bellair proposes to take her away tonight. Dis- 
approving of the planned abduction Walpole sends his 
servant to bring Sir Sidney. A pebble is thrown against 
the window, as agreed upon, but it cannot be the signal 
of BeUair, for he is safe. Walpole looks from the win- 
dow and sees a ladder, so he instructs his niece to whis- 
per " I 'm chained to the floor, come up and release me, ' ' 
and he hides behind the door. Blount enters through 
the window. He upbraids Lucy for her deceptions and 
falsities, and when she defends her actions, he grows 
stem and declares that only as his bride shall she leave 
these walls. Then Walpole taps him on the shoulder, 
steps into the balcony and pushes down the ladder, and 
returns as Blount, realizing the impossibility of escape, 
draws his sword. The minister bids him abstain from 



WALPOLE 401 

further blundering, and Lucy intercedes and asks for- 
getfulness of a moment's madness which cannot wipe out 
the long-continued kindness shown a poor orphan, and 
Walpole agrees that the matter shall be a secret. A 
knock at the door behind which Walpole conceals him- 
self precedes the entrance of Bellair, Vesey, and Mrs. 
Vizard. Sir Sidney upbraids Blount for his betrayal of 
friendship and confidence. The minister interrupts 
what threatens to become a quarrel, by representing the 
disclosure of Nithsdale's letter as a kindness, for it was 
coupled with the condition of Bellair 's pardon, which is 
granted, and Blount's presence is another service since 
it saves Sir Sidney from degrading his bride by the 
scandal of flight. He asks Bellair in a whisper if he in- 
tended honest wedlock with one seemingly so far beneath 
him, and when assured of his good faith, bids him ask 
of Walpole the hand of his niece, and thank the friend 
who has preengaged his consent. Bellair 's good opinion 
of Blount is restored, and a nephew cannot vote against 
his uncle. The generosity of the minister converts the 
opponent into a friend and assures the safety of the bill, 
and so the matters which threatened storm take on an- 
other complexion and the glass stands at fair for the 
minister. 



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